a 


MIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 


£   x. 


GEORGINA 
OF  THE  RAINBOWS 


"As  Long  as  a  Man  Keeps  Hope 
at  the  Prow  He  Keeps  Afloat." 


GEORGINA 

OF  THE  RAINBOWS 


BY 
cANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 

Author  of 

' '  Two  Little  Knights  of  Kentucky,  "    'The  Giant  Sciuors, ' ' 
"The  Desert  of  Waiting,  "  etc. 


"  .     .      .     Still  beat  up  and  steer 
right  onward.  "  MILTON 


New  York 
Britton   Publishing  Company 


Copyright,  1918 
BRITTON  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  INC. 


All  Rights  Reserved 


To 

My  Little  God-daughter 
"ANNE  ELIZABETH" 


2088235 


"At  the  Tip  of  Old  Cape  Cod' 


CONTENTS ' 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    HER  EARLIER  MEMORIES  ...  n 

II.    GEORGINA'S  PLAYMATE  MOTHER  22 

III.  THE  TOWNCRIER  HAS  His  SAY  .  30 

IV.  NEW  FRIENDS  AND  THE  GREEN 

STAIRS 40 

V.     IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  PIRATES    .  5 1 

VI.     SPEND-THE-DAY  GUESTS    ...  63 

VII.     "THE  TISHBITE" 77 

VIII.    THE    TELEGRAM    THAT    TOOK 

BARBY  AWAY 86 

IX.    THE  BIRTHDAY  PRISM  ....  96 

X.     MOVING  PICTURES in 

XI.     THE  OLD  RIFLE  GIVES  UP  ITS 

SECRET 124 

XII.     A  HARD  PROMISE 135 

XIII.  LOST  AND  FOUND  AT  THE  LINI- 

MENT WAGON 141 

XIV.  BURIED  TREASURE 154 

XV.     A  NARROW  ESCAPE  .     .    .     .     .  161 

XVI.    WHAT  THE  STORM  DID  .    .     .     .  169 

vii 


Vlll 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII.     IN  THE  KEEPING  OF  THE  DUNES  178 

XVIII.     FOUND  OUT 187 

XIX.    TRACING  THE  LINIMENT  WAGON  198 

XX.     DANCE  OF  THE  RAINBOW  FAIRIES  209 
XXI.     ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WILD-CAT 

WOMAN 218 

XXII.    THE  RAINBOW  GAME   ....  230 

XXIII.  LIGHT  DAWNS  FOR  UNCLE  DARCY  244 

XXIV.  A  CONTRAST  IN  FATHERS  .    .     .  258 
XXV.    A  LETTER  TO  HONG- KONG  .     .     .  272 

XXVI.     PEGGY    JOINS    THE     RAINBOW- 
MAKERS     283 

XXVII.    A  MODERN  "ST.  GEORGE  AND  THE 

DRAGON" 291 

XXVIII.    THE  DOCTOR'S  DISCOVERY    .    .  304 

XXIX.     WHILE  THEY  WAITED  .     .    .     .  317 

XXX.     NEARING  THE  END    .     .,    .    .     .  329 

XXXI.     COMINGS  AND  GOINGS  ....  336 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY  RAY  N.  JACKSON 

THE  REAL  GEORGINA  (in  life  colors)    Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

THEY  TOOK  THEIR  WAY  IN  "THE  BETSEY"  54 
COMING  ACROSS  A  SEA  OF  DREAMS  .  .  240 
THE  TOWNCRIER  AND  His  LASS  .  .  .  310 


"Put  a  Rainbow  'Round  Your 
Troubles." — GEORGINA. 


Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

CHAPTER    I 

HER   EARLIER   MEMORIES 

T  F  old  Jeremy  Clapp  had  not  sneezed  his  teeth 
•*•  into  the  fire  that  winter  day  this  story  might  have 
had  a  more  seemly  beginning;  but,  being  a  true  rec- 
ord, it  must  start  with  that  sneeze,  because  it  was  the 
first  happening  in  Georgina  Huntingdon's  life  which 
she  could  remember  distinctly. 

She  was  in  her  high-chair  by  a  window  overlook- 
ing a  gray  sea,  and  with  a  bib  under  her  chin,  was 
being  fed  dripping  spoonfuls  of  bread  and  milk  from 
the  silver  porringer  which  rested  on  the  sill.  The 
bowl  was  almost  on  a  level  with  her  little  blue  shoes 
which  she  kept  kicking  up  and  down  on  the  step  of 
her  high-chair,  wherefore  the  restraining  hand  which 
seized  her  ankles  at  intervals.  It  was  Mrs.  Trip- 
lett's  firm  hand  which  clutched  her,  and  Mrs.  Trip- 
lett's  firm  hand  which  fed  her,  so  there  was  not  the 
usual  dilly-dallying  over  Georgina's  breakfast  as 
when  her  mother  held  the  spoon.  She  always  made  a 
game  of  it,  chanting  nursery  rhymes  in  a  gay,  silver- 
bell-cockle-shell  sort  of  way,  as  if  she  were  one  of 

ii 


12  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

the  "pretty  maids  all  in  a  row,"  just  stepped  out  of 
a  picture  book. 

Mrs.  Triplett  was  an  elderly  widow,  a  distant  rela- 
tive of  the  family,  who  lived  with  them.  "Tippy" 
the  child  called  her  before  she  could  speak  plainly — 
a  foolish  name  for  such  a  severe  and  dignified  person, 
but  Mrs.  Triplett  rather  seemed  to  like  it.  Being 
the  working  housekeeper,  companion  and  everything 
else  which  occasion  required,  she  had  no  time  to  make 
a  game  of  Georgina's  breakfast,  even  if  she  had 
known  how.  Not  once  did  she  stop  to  say,  "Curly- 
locks,  Curly-locks,  wilt  thou  be  mine?"  or  to  press 
her  face  suddenly  against  Georgina's  dimpled  rose- 
leaf  cheek  as  if  it  were  somthing  too  temptingly  dear 
and  sweet  to  be  resisted.  She  merely  said,  "Here  I" 
each  time  she  thrust  the  spoon  towards  her. 

Mrs.  Triplett  was  in  an  especial  hurry  this  morn- 
ing, and  did  not  even  look  up  when  old  Jeremy  came 
into  the  room  to  put  more  wood  on  the  fire.  In  win- 
ter, when  there  was  no  garden  work,  Jeremy  did 
everything  about  the  house  which  required  a  man's 
hand.  Although  he  must  have  been  nearly  eighty 
years  old,  he  came  in,  tall  and  unbending,  with  a  big 
log  across  his  shoulder.  He  walked  stiffly,  but  his 
back  was  as  straight  as  the  long  poker  with  which 
he  mended  the  fire. 

Georgina  had  seen  him  coming  and  going  about 
the  place  every  day  since  she  had  been  brought  to 
live  in  this  old  gray  house  beside  the  sea,  but  this 


Her  Earlier  Memories  13 

was  the  first  time  he  had  made  any  lasting  impression 
upon  her  memory.  Henceforth,  she  was  to  carry 
with  her  as  long  as  she  should  live  the  picture  of  a 
hale,  red-faced  old  man  with  a  woolen  muffler  wound 
around  his  lean  throat.  His  knitted  "wrist-warm- 
ers" slipped  down  over  his  mottled,  deeply-veined 
hands  when  he  stooped  to  roll  the  log  into  the  fire. 
He  let  go  with  a  grunt.  The  next  instant  a  mighty 
sneeze  seized  him,  and  Georgina,  who  had  been  gaz- 
ing in  fascination  at  the  shower  of  sparks  he  was 
making,  saw  all  of  his  teeth  ga  flying  into  the  fire. 

If  his  eyes  had  suddenly  dropped  from  their  sock- 
ets upon  the  hearth,  or  his  ears  floated  off  from  the 
sides  of  his  head,  she  could  not  have  been  more  ter- 
rified, for  she  had  not  yet  learned  that  one's  teeth 
may  be  a  separate  part  of  one's  anatomy.  It  was 
such  a  terrible  thing  to  see  a  man  go  to  pieces  in 
this  undreamed-of  fashion,  that  she  began  to  scream 
and  writhe  around  in  her  high-chair  until  it  nearly 
turned  over. 

She  did  upset  the  silver  porringer,  and  what  was 
left  of  the  bread  and  milk  splashed  out  on  the  floor, 
barely  missing  the  rug.  Mrs.  Triplett  sprang  to 
snatch  her  from  the  toppling  chair,  thinking  the  child 
was  having  a  spasm.  She  did  not  connect  it  with  old 
Jeremy's  sneeze  until  she  heard  his  wrathful  gibber- 
ing, and  turned  to  see  him  holding  up  the  teeth, 
which  he  had  fished  out  of  the  fire  with  the  tongs. 

They  were  an  old-fashioned  set  such  as  one  never 


14  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

sees  now.  They  had. been  made  in  England.  They 
were  hinged  together  like  jaws,  and  Georgina  yelled 
again  as  she  saw  'them  all  blackened  and  gaping, 
dangling  from  the  tongs.  It  was  not  the  grinning 
teeth  themselves,  however,  which  frightened  her. 
It  was  the  awful  knowledge,  vague  though  it  was  to 
her  infant  mind,  that  a  human  body  could  fly  apart 
in  that  way.  And  Tippy,  not  understanding  the 
cause  of  her  terror,  never  thought  to  explain  that 
they  were  false  and  had  been  made  by  a  man  in 
some  out-of-the-way  corner  of  Yorkshire,  instead 
of  by  the  Almighty,  and  that  their  removal  was  pain- 
less. 

It  was  several  years  before  Georgina  learned  the 
truth,  and  the  impression  made  by  the  accident  grew 
into  a  lurking  fear  which  often  haunted  her  as  time 
wore  on.  She  never  knew  at  what  moment  she  might 
fly  apart  herself.  That  it  was  a  distressing  ex- 
perience she  knew  from  the  look  on  old  Jeremy's 
face  and  the  desperate  pace  at  which  he  set  off  to 
have  himself  mended. 

She  held  her  breath  long  enough  to  hear  the  door 
bang  shut  after  him  and  his  hob-nailed  shoes  go 
scrunch,  scrunch,  through  the  gravel  of  the  path 
around  the  house,  then  she  broke  out  crying  again 
so  violently  that  Tippy  had  hard  work  quieting  her. 
She  picked  up  the  silver  porringer  from  the  floor 
and  told  her  to  look  at  the  pretty  bowl.  The  fall 
had  put  a  dent  into  its  side.  And  what  would 


Her  Earlier  Memories  15 

Georgina's  great-great  aunt  have  said  could  she  have 
known  what  was  going  to  happen  to  her  handsome 
dish,  poor  lady!  Surely  she  never  would  have  left  it 
to  such  a  naughty  namesake!  Then,  to  stop  her 
sobbing,  Mrs.  Triplett  took  one  tiny  finger-tip  in  her 
large  ones,  and  traced  the  name  which  was  engraved 
around  the  rim  in  tall,  slim-looped  letters:  the  name 
which  had  passed  down  through  many  christenings 
to  its  present  owner,  "Georgina  Huntingdon." 

Failing  thus  to  pacify  the  frightened  child,  Mrs. 
Triplett  held  her  up  to  the  window  overlooking  the 
harbor,  and  dramatically  bade  her  "hark!"  Stand- 
ing with  her  blue  shoes  on  the  window-sill,  and  a  tear 
on  each  pink  cheek,  Georgina  flattened  her  nose 
against  the  glass  and  obediently  listened. 

The  main  street  of  the  ancient  seaport  town,  upon 
which  she  gazed  expectantly,  curved  three  miles 
around  the  harbor,  and  the  narrow  board-walk  which 
ran  along  one  side  of  it  all  the  way,  ended  abruptly 
just  in  front  of  the  house  in  a  waste  of  sand.  So 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  fishing  boat  at 
anchor,  and  the  waves  crawling  up  the  beach,  and 
nothing  to  be  heard  but  the  jangle  of  a  bell  some- 
where down  the  street.  The  sobs  broke  out  again. 

"Hush!"  commanded  Mrs.  Triplett,  giving  her 
an  impatient  shake.  "Hark  to  what's  coming  up 
along.  Can't  you  stop  a  minute  and  give  the  Town- 
crier  a  chance  ?  Or  is  it  you're  trying  to  outdo  him  ?" 

The    word    "Towncrier"    was    meaningless    to 


16  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Georgina.  There  was  nothing  by  that  name  in  her 
linen  book  which  held  the  pictures  of  all  the  animals 
from  Ape  to  Zebra,  and  there  was  nothing  by  that 
name  down  in  Kentucky  where  she  had  lived  all  of 
her  short  life  until  these  last  few  weeks.  She  did 
not  even  know  whether  what  Mrs.  Triplett  said  was 
coming  along  would  be  wearing  a  hat  or  horns.  The 
cow  that  lowed  at  the  pasture  bars  every  night  back 
in  Kentucky  jangled  a  bell.  Georgina  had  no  dis- 
tinct recollection  of  the  cow,  but  because  of  it  the 
sound  of  a  bell  was  associated  in  her  mind  with  horns. 
So  horns  were  what  she  halfway  expected  to  see,  as 
she  watched  breathlessly,  with  her  face  against  the 
glass. 

"Hark  to  what  he's  calling!"  urged  Mrs.  Triplett. 
"A  fish  auction.  There's  a  big  boat  in  this  morning 
with  a  load  of  fish,  and  the  Towncrier  is  telling  every- 
body about  it." 

So  a  Towncrier  was  a  man!  The  next  instant 
Georgina  saw  him.  He  was  an  old  man,  with  bent 
shoulders  and  a  fringe  of  gray  hair  showing  under 
the  fur  cap  pulled  down  to  meet  his  ears.  But  there 
was  such  a  happy  twinkle  in  his  faded  blue  eyes,  such 
goodness  of  heart  in  every  wrinkle  of  the  weather- 
beaten  old  face,  that  even  the  grumpiest  people 
smiled  a  little  when  they  met  him,  and  everybody  he 
spoke  to  stepped  along  a  bit  more  cheerful,  just  be' 
cause  the  hearty  way  he  safH  "Good  morning!"  made 
the  day  seem  really  good. 


Her  Earlier  Memories  17 

"He's  cold,"  said  Tippy.  "Let's  tap  on  the  win- 
dow and  beckon  him  to  come  in  and  warm  himself 
before  he  starts  back  to  town." 

She  caught  up  Georgina's  hand  to  make  it  do  the 
tapping,  thinking  it  would  please  her  to  give  her  a 
share  in  the  invitation,  but  in  her  touchy  frame  of 
mind  it  was  only  an  added  grievance  to  have  her 
knuckles  knocked  against  the  pane,  and  her  wails 
began  afresh  as  the  old  man,  answering  the  signal, 
shook  his  bell  at  her  playfully,  and  turned  towards 
the  house. 

As  to  what  happened  after  that,  Georgina's  mem- 
ory is  a  blank,  save  for  a  confused  recollection  of 
being  galloped  to  Banbury  Cross  on  somebody's 
knee,  while  a  big  hand  helped  her  to  clang  the  clap- 
per of  a  bell  far  too  heavy  for  her  to  swing  alone. 
But  some  dim  picture  of  the  kindly  face  puckered  into 
smiles  for  her  comforting,  stayed  on  in  her  mind  as 
an  object  seen  through  a  fog,  and  thereafter  she 
never  saw  the  Towncrier  go  kling-klanging  along  the 
street  without  feeling  a  return  of  that  same  sense  of 
safety  which  his  song  gave  her  that  morning.  Some- 
how, it  restored  her  confidence  in  all  Creation  which 
Jeremy's  teeth  had  shattered  in  their  fall. 

Taking  advantage  of  Georgina's  contentment  at 
being  settled  on  the  visitor's  knee,  Mrs.  Triplett  hur- 
ried for  a  cloth  to  wipe  up  the  bread  and  milk. 
Kneeling  on  the  floor  beside  it  she  sopped  it  up  so 
energetically  that  what  she  was  saying  came  in  jerks. 


i8  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"It's  a  mercy  you  happened  along,  Mr.  Darcy,  or 
she  might  have  been  screaming  yet.  I  never  saw  a 
child  go  into  such  a  sudden  tantrum." 

The  answer  came  in  jerks  also,  for  it  took  a  vigor- 
ous trotting  of  the  knees  to  keep  such  a  heavy  child 
as  Georgina  on  the  bounce.  And  in  order  that  his 
words  might  not  interfere  with  the  game  he  sang 
them  to  the  tune  of  "Ride  a  Cock  Horse." 

"There  must  have  been — some  very  good 

Reason  for  such — a  hulla-ba-loo!" 

"I'll  tell  you  when  I  come  back,"  said  Mrs.  Trip- 
lett,  on  her  feet  again  by  this  time  and  halfway  to 
the  kitchen  with  the  dripping  floor  cloth.  But  when 
she  reappeared  in  the  doorway  her  own  concerns  had 
crowded  out  the  thought  of  old  Jeremy's  misfor- 
tune. 

"My  yeast  is  running  all  over  the  top  of  the  crock, 
Mr.  Darcy,  and  if  I  don't  get  it  mixed  right  away 
the  whole  baking  will  be  spoiled." 

"That's  all  right,  ma'am,"  was  the  answer.  "Go 
ahead  with  your  dough.  I'll  keep  the  little  lass  out 
of  mischief.  Many's  the  time  I  have  sat  by  this  fire 
with  her  father  on  my  knee,  as  you  know.  But  it's 
been  years  since  I  was  in  this  room  last." 

There  was  a  long  pause  in  the  Banbury  Cross  ride. 
The  Crier  was  looking  around  the  room  from  one 
familiar  object  to  another  with  the  gentle  wistful- 


Her  Earlier  Memories  19 

ness  which  creeps  into  old  eyes  when  they  peer  into 
the  past  for  something  that  has  ceased  to  be. 
Georgina  grew  impatient. 

"More  ride!"  she  commanded,  waving  her  hands 
and  clucking  her  tongue  as  he  had  just  taught  her  to 
do. 

"Don't  let  her  worry  you,  Mr.  Darcy,"  called 
Mrs.  Triplett  from  the  kitchen.  "Her  mother  will 
be  back  from  the  post-office  most  any  minute  now. 
Just  send  her  out  here  to  me  if  she  gets  too  bother- 
some." 

Instantly  Georgina  cuddled  her  head  down  against 
his  shoulder.  She  had  no  mind  to  be  separated 
from  this  new-found  playfellow.  When  he  produced 
a  battered  silver  watch  from  the  pocket  of  his  vel- 
veteen waistcoat,  holding  it  over  her  ear,  she  was 
charmed  into  a  prolonged  silence.  The  clack  of 
Tippy's  spoon  against  the  crock  came  in  from  the 
kitchen,  and  now  and  then  the  fire  snapped  or  the 
green  fore-log  made  a  sing-song  hissing. 

More  than  thirty  years  had  passed  by  since  the 
old  Towncrier  first  visited  the  Huntingdon  home. 
He  was  not  the  Towncrier  then,  but  a  seafaring  man 
who  had  sailed  many  times  around  the  globe,  and 
had  his  fill  of  adventure.  Tired  at  last  of  such  a 
roving  life,  he  had  found  anchorage  to  his  liking 
in  this  quaint  old  fishing  town  at  the  tip  end  of  Cape 
Cod.  Georgina's  grandfather,  George  Justin  Hunt- 
ingdon, a  judge  and  a  writer  of  dry  law  books,  had 


2O  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

been  one  of  the  first  to  open  his  home  to  him.  They 
had  been  great  friends,  and  little  Justin,  now  Geor- 
gina's  father,  had  been  a  still  closer  friend.  Many  a 
day  they  had  spent  together,  these  two,  fishing  or 
blueberrying  or  tramping  across  the  dunes.  The  boy 
called  him  "Uncle  Darcy,"  tagging  after  him  like  a 
shadow,  and  feeling  a  kinship  in  their  mutual  love  of 
adventure  which  drew  as  strongly  as  family  ties. 
The  Judge  always  said  that  it  was  the  old  sailor's 
yarns  of  sea  life  which  sent  Justin  into  the  navy  "in- 
stead of  the  law  office  where  he  belonged." 

As  the  old  man  looked  down  at  Georgina's  soft, 
brown  curls  pressed  against  his  shoulder,  and  felt 
her  little  dimpled  hand  lying  warm  on  his  neck,  he 
could  almost  believe  it  was  the  same  child  who  had 
crept  into  his  heart  thirty  years  ago.  It  was  hard  to 
think  of  the  little  lad  as  grown,  or  as  filling  the  re- 
sponsible position  of  a  naval  surgeon.  Yet  when  he 
counted  back  he  realized  that  the  Judge  had  been 
dead  several  years,  and  the  house  had  been  stand- 
ing empty  all  that  time.  Justin  had  never  been  back 
since  it  was  boarded  up.  He  had  written  occasion- 
ally during  the  first  of  his  absence,  but  only  boyish 
scrawls  which  told  little  about  himself. 

The  only  real  news  which  the  old  man  had  of  him 
was  in  the  three  clippings  from  the  Provincetown 
Beacon,  which  he  carried  about  in  his  wallet.  The 
first  was  a  mention  of  Justin's  excellent  record  in 
fighting  a  fever  epidemic  in  some  naval  station  in  the 


Her  Earlier  Memories  21 

tropics.  The  next  was  the  notice  of  his  marriage  to 
a  Kentucky  girl  by  the  name  of  Barbara  Shirley,  and 
the  last  was  a  paragraph  clipped  from  a  newspaper 
dated  only  a  few  weeks  back.  It  said  that  Mrs.  Jus- 
tin Huntingdon  and  little  daughter,  Georgina,  would 
arrive  soon  to  take  possession  of  the  old  Hunting- 
don homestead  which  had  been  closed  for  many 
years.  During  the  absence  of  her  husband,  serving 
in  foreign  parts,  she  would  have  with  her  Mrs.  Maria 
Triplett. 

The  Towncrier  had  known  Mrs.  Triplett  as  long 
as  he  had  known  the  town.  She  had  been  kind  to 
him  when  he  and  his  wife  were  in  great  trouble.  He 
was  thinking  about  that  time  now,  because  it  had 
something  to  do  with  his  last  visit  to  the  Judge  in 
this  very  room.  She  had  happened  to  be  present, 
too.  And  the  green  fore-log  had  made  that  same 
sing-song  hissing.  The  sound  carried  his  thoughts 
back  so  far  that  for  a  few  moments  he  ceased  to  hear 
the  clack  of  the  spoon. 


CHAPTER    II 
GEORGINA'S  PLAYMATE  MOTHER 

A  S  the  Towncrier's  revery  brought  him  around  to 
**•  Mrs.  Triplett's  part  in  the  painful  scene  which 
he  was  recalling,  he  heard  her  voice,  and  looking  up, 
saw  that  she  had  come  back  into  the  room,  and  was 
standing  by  the  window. 

"There's  Justin's  wife  now,  Mr.  Darcy,  coming 
up  the  beach.  Poor  child,  she  didn't  get  her  letter. 
I  can  tell  she's  disappointed  from  the  way  she  walks 
along  as  if  she  could  hardly  push  against  the  wind." 

The  old  man,  leaning  sideways  over  the  arm  of  his 
chair,  craned  his  neck  toward  the  window  to  peer 
out,  but  he  did  it  without  dislodging  Georgina,  who 
was  repeating  the  "tick-tick"  of  the  watch  in  a  whis- 
per, as  she  lay  contentedly  against  the  Towncrier's 
shoulder. 

"She's  naught  but  a  slip  of  a  girl,"  he  commented, 
referring  to  Georgina's  mother,  slowly  drawing  into 
closer  view.  "She  must  be  years  younger  than  Jus- 
in.  She  came  up  to  me  in  the  post-office  last  week 
and  told  me  who  she  was,  and  I've  been  intending 
ever  since  to  get  up  this  far  to  talk  with  her  about 
him." 

22 


Georgina's  Playmate  Mother         23 

As  they  watched  her  she  reached  the  end  of  the 
board-walk,  and  plunging  ankle-deep  into  the  sand, 
trudged  slowly  along  as  if  pushed  back  by  the  wind. 
It  whipped  her  skirts  about  her  and  blew  the  ends 
of  her  fringed  scarf  back  over  her  shoulder.  She 
made  a  bright  flash  of  color  against  the  desolate 
background.  Scarf,  cap  and  thick  knitted  reefer 
were  all  of  a  warm  rose  shade.  Once  she  stopped, 
and  with  hands  thrust  into  her  reefer  pockets,  stood 
looking  off  towards  the  lighthouse  on  Long  Point. 
Mrs.  Triplett  spoke  again,  still  watching  her. 

"I  didn't  want  to  take  Justin's  offer  when  he  first 
wrote  to  me,  although  the  salary  he  named  was  a 
good  one,  and  I  knew  the  work  wouldn't  be  more 
than  I've  always  been  used  to.  But  I  had  planned 
to  stay  in  Wellfleet  this  winter,  and  it  always  goes 
against  the  grain  with  me  to  have  to  change  a  plan 
once  made.  I  only  promised  to  stay  until  she  was 
comfortably  settled.  A  Portugese  woman  on  one 
of  the  back  streets  would  have  come  and  cooked  for 
her.  But  land !  When  I  saw  how  strange  and  lone- 
some she  seemed  and  how  she  turned  to  me  for 
everything,  I  didn't  have  the  heart  to  say  go.  I 
only  named  it  once  to  her,  and  she  sort  of  choked  up 
and  winked  back  the  tears  and  said  in  that  soft- 
spoken  Southern  way  of  hers,  'Oh,  don't  leave  me, 
Tippy!'  She's  taken  to  calling  me  Tippy,  just  as 
Georgina  does.  'When  you  talk  about  it  I  feel  like 
a  kitten  shipwrecked  on  a  desert  island.  It's  all  so 


24  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

strange  and  dreadful  here  with  just  sea  on  one  side 
and  sand  dunes  on  the  other.'  ' 

At  the  sound  of  her  name,  Georgina  suddenly  sat 
up  straight  and  began  fumbling  the  watch  back  into 
the  velveteen  pocket.  She  felt  that  it  was  time  for 
her  to  come  into  the  foreground  again. 

"More  ride!"  she  demanded.  The  galloping 
began  again,  gently  at  first,  then  faster  and  faster 
in  obedience  to  her  wishes,  until  she  seemed  only  a 
swirl  of  white  dress  and  blue  ribbon  and  flying  brown 
curls.  But  this  time  the  giddy  going  up  and  down 
was  in  tame  silence.  There  was  no  accompanying 
song  to  make  the  game  lively.  Mrs.  Triplett  had 
more  to  say,  and  Mr.  Darcy  was  too  deeply  inter- 
ested to  sing. 

"Look  at  her  now,  stopping  to  read  that  sign  set 
up  on  the  spot  where  the  Pilgrims  landed.  She  does 
that  every  time  she  passes  it.  Says  it  cheers  her  up 
something  wonderful,  no  matter  how  downhearted 
she  is,  to  think  that  she  wasn't  one  of  the  Mayflower 
passengers,  and  that  she's  nearly  three  hundred  years 
away  from  their  hardships  and  that  dreadful  first 
wash-day  of  theirs.  Does  seem  to  me  though,  that's 
a  poor  way  to  make  yourself  cheerful,  just  thinking 
of  all  the  hard  times  you  might  have  had  but  didn't." 

''Thing  it!"  lisped  Georgina,  wanting  undivided 
attention,  and  laying  an  imperious  little  hand  on  his 
cheek  to  force  it.  "Thing!" 

He  shook  his  head  reprovingly,  with  a  finger 


Georgina's  Playmate  Mother         25 

across  his  lips  to  remind  her  that  Mrs.  Triplett  was 
still  talking;  but  she  was  not  to  be  silenced  in  such 
a  way.  Leaning  over  until  her  mischievous  brown 
eyes  compelled  him  to  look  at  her,  she  smiled  like 
a  dimpled  cherub.  Georgina's  smile  was  something 
irresistible  when  she  wanted  her  own  way. 

"Pleathe/"  she  lisped,  her  face  so  radiantly  sure 
that  no  one  could  be  hardhearted  enough  to  resist  the 
magic  appeal  of  that  word,  that  he  could  not  dis- 
appoint her. 

'The  little  witch!"  he  exclaimed.  "She  could 
wheedle  the  fish  out  of  the  sea  if  she'd  say  please 
to  'em  that  way.  But  how  that  honey-sweet  tone  and 
the  yells  she  was  letting  loose  awhile  back  could 
come  out  of  that  same  little  rose  of  a  mouth,  passes 
my  understanding." 

Mrs.  Triplett  had  left  them  again  and  he  was 
singing  at  the  top  of  his  quavering  voice,  "Rings  on 
her  fingers  and  bells  on  her  toes,"  when  the  front 
door  opened  and  Georgina's  mother  came  in.  The 
salt  wind  had  blown  color  into  her  cheeks  as  bright 
as  her  rose-pink  reefer.  Her  disappointment  about 
the  letter  had  left  a  wistful  shadow  in  her  big  gray 
eyes,  but  it  changed  to  a  light  of  pleasure  when  she 
saw  who  was  romping  with  Georgina.  They  were 
so  busy  with  their  game  that  neither  of  them  noticed 
her  entrance. 

She  closed  the  door  softly  behind  her  and  stood 
with  her  back  against  it  watching  them  a  moment. 


26  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Then  Georgina  spied  her,  and  with  a  rapturous  cry 
of  "Barbyf"  scrambled  down  and  ran  to  throw  her- 
self into  her  mother's  arms.  Barby  was  her  way  of 
saying  Barbara.  It  was  the  first  word  she  had  ever 
spoken  and  her  proud  young  mother  encouraged  her 
to  repeat  it,  even  when  her  Grandmother  Shirley  in- 
sisted that  it  wasn't  respectful  for  a  child  to  call  its 
mother  by  her  first  name. 

"But  I  don't  care  whether  it  is  or  not,"  Barbara 
had  answered.  "All  I  want  is  for  her  to  feel  that 
we're  the  best  chums  in  the  world.  And  I'm  not  go- 
ing to  spoil  her  even  if  I  am  young  and  inexperienced. 
There  are  a  few  things  that  I  expect  to  be  very  strict 
about,  but  making  her  respectful  to  me  isn't  one  of 
them." 

Now  one  of  the  things  which  Barbara  had  decided 
to  be  very  strict  about  in  Georgina's  training  was 
making  her  respectful  to  guests.  She  was  not  to 
thrust  herself  upon  their  notice,  she  was  not  to  inter- 
rupt their  conversation,  or  make  a  nuisance  of  her- 
self. So,  young  as  she  was,  Georgina  had  already 
learned  what  was  expected  of  her,  when  her  mother 
having  greeted  Mr.  Darcy  and  laid  aside  her  wraps, 
drew  up  to  the  fire  to  talk  to  him.  But  instead  of 
doing  the  expected  thing,  Georgina  did  the  forbid- 
den. Since  the  old  man's  knees  were  crossed  so  that 
she  could  no  longer  climb  upon  them,  she  attempted 
to  seat  herself  on  his  foot,  clamoring,  "Do  it  again  !" 

"No,  dear,"  Barbara  said  firmly.    "Uncle  Darcy's 


Georgina' s  Playmate  Mother        27 

tired."  She  had  noticed  the  long-drawn  sigh  of  re- 
lief with  which  he  ended  the  last  gallop.  "He's 
going  to  tell  us  about  father  when  he  was  a  little  boy 
no  bigger  than  you.  So  come  here  to  Barby  and 
listen  or  else  go  off  to  your  own  corner  and  play 
with  your  whirligig." 

Usually,  at  the  mention  of  some  particularly  pleas- 
ing toy  Georgina  would  trot  off  happily  to  find  it; 
but  to-day  she  stood  with  her  face  drawn  into  a  re- 
bellious pucker  and  scowled  at  her  mother  savagely. 
Then  throwing  herself  down  on  the  rug  she  began 
kicking  her  blue  shoes  up  and  down  on  the  hearth, 
roaring,  "No/  No!"  at  the  top  of  her  voice.  Bar- 
bara paid  no  attention  at  first,  but  finding  it  impos- 
sible to  talk  with  such  a  noise  going  on,  dragged  her 
up  from  the  floor  and  looked  around  helplessly,  con- 
sidering what  to  do  with  her.  Then  she  remembered 
the  huge  wicker  clothes  hamper,  standing  empty  in 
the  kitchen,  and  carrying  her  out,  gently  lowered  her 
into  it. 

It  was  so  deep  that  even  on  tiptoe  Georgina  could 
not  look  over  the  rim.  All  she  could  see  was  the 
ceiling  directly  overhead.  The  surprise  of  such  a 
novel  punishment  made  her  hold  her  breath  to  find 
what  was  going  to  happen  next,  and  in  the  stillness 
she  heard  her  mother  say  calmly  as  she  walked  out  of 
the  room:  "If  she  roars  any  more,  Tippy,  just  put 
the  lid  on;  but  as  soon  as  she  is  ready  to  act  like  a 
little  lady,  lift  her  out,  please." 


28  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

The  strangeness  of  her  surroundings  kept  her  quiet 
a  moment  longer,  and  in  that  moment  she  discovered 
that  by  putting  one  eye  to  a  loosely-woven  spot  in  the 
hamper  she  could  see  what  Mrs.  Triplett  was  doing. 
She  was  polishing  the  silver  porringer,  trying  to  rub 
out  the  dent  which  the  fall  had  made  in  its  side.  It 
was  such  an  interesting  kitchen,  seen  through  this 
peep-hole  that  Georgina  became  absorbed  in  rolling 
her  eye  around  for  wider  views.  Then  she  found 
another  outlook  on  the  other  side  of  the  hamper, 
and  was  quiet  so  long  that  Mrs.  Triplett  came  over 
and  peered  down  at  her  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
Georgina  looked  up  at  her  with  a  roguish  smile. 
One  never  knew  how  she  was  going  to  take  a  punish- 
ment or  what  she  would  do  next. 

"Are  you  ready  to  be  a  little  lady  now?  Want  me 
to  lift  you  out?"  Both  little  arms  were  stretched  joy- 
ously up  to  her,  and  a  voice  of  angelic  sweetness  said 
coaxingly :  "Pleathe,  Tippy." 

The  porringer  was  in  Mrs.  Triplett's  hand  when 
she  leaned  over  the  hamper  to  ask  the  question.  The 
gleam  of  its  freshly-polished  sides  caught  Georgina's 
attention  an  instant  before  she  was  lifted  out,  and 
it  was  impressed  on  her  memory  still  more  deeply 
by  being  put  into  her  own  hands  afterwards  as  she 
sat  in  Mrs.  Triplett's  lap.  Once  more  her  tiny  fin- 
ger's tip  was  made  to  trace  the  letters  engraved 
around  the  rim,  as  she  was  told  about  her  great-great 
aunt  and  what  was  expected  of  her.  The  solemn 


Georgina's  Playmate  Mother         29 

tone  clutched  her  attention  as  firmly  as  the  hand 
which  held  her,  and  somehow,  before  she  was  set 
free,  she  was  made  to  feel  that  because  of  that  old 
porringer  she  was  obliged  to  be  a  little  lady. 

Tippy  was  not  one  who  could  sit  calmly  by  and 
see  a  child  suffer  for  lack  of  proper  instruction,  and 
while  Georgina  never  knew  just  how  it  was  done,  the 
fact  was  impressed  upon  her  as  years  went  by  that 
there  were  many  things  which  she  could  not  do, 
simply  because  she  was  a  Huntingdon  and  because 
her  name  had  been  graven  for  so  many  generations 
around  that  shining  silver  rim. 

Although  to  older  eyes  the  happenings  of  that 
morning  were  trivial,  they  were  far-reaching  in  their 
importance  to  Georgina,  for  they  gave  her  three 
memories — Jeremy's  teeth,  the  Towncrier's  bell,  and 
her  own  name  on  the  porringer — to  make  a  deep  im- 
pression on  all  her  after-life. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    TOWNCRIER    HAS    HIS    SAY 

THE  old  Huntingdon  house  with  its  gray  gables 
and  stone  chimneys,  stood  on  the  beach  near  the 
breakwater,  just  beyond  the  place  where  everything 
seemed  to  come  to  an  end.  The  house  itself  marked 
the  end  of  the  town.  Back  of  it  the  dreary  dunes 
stretched  away  toward  the  Atlantic,  and  in  front  the 
Cape  ran  out  in  a  long,  thin  tongue  of  sand  between 
the  bay  and  the  harbor,  with  a  lighthouse  on  its 
farthest  point.  It  gave  one  the  feeling  of  being  at 
the  very  tip  end  of  the  world  to  look  across  and  see 
the  water  closing  in  on  both  sides.  Even  the  road 
ended  in  front  of  the  house  in  a  broad  loop  in  which 
machines  could  turn  around. 

In  summer  there  was  always  a  string  of  sightseers 
coming  up  to  this  end  of  the  beach.  They  came  to 
read  the  tablet  erected  on  the  spot  known  to  Geor- 
gina  as  "holy  ground,"  because  it  marked  the  first 
landing  of  the  Pilgrims.  Long  before  she  could  read, 
Mrs.  Triplett  taught  her  to  lisp  part  of  a  poem  which 
said: 

"Aye,  call  it  holy  ground, 
The  thoil  where  firth  they  trod." 
30 


The  Towncrier  Has  His  Say        31 

She  taught  it  to  Georgina  because  she  thought  it 
was  only  fair  to  Justin  that  his  child  should  grow 
up  to  be  as  proud  of  her  New  England  home  as  she 
was  of  her  Southern  one.  Barbara  was  always  sing- 
ing to  her  about  "My  Old  Kentucky  Home,"  and 
"Going  Back  to  Dixie,"  and  when  they  played  to- 
gether on  the  beach  their  favorite  game  was  build- 
ing Grandfather  Shirley's  house  in  the  sand. 

Day  after  day  they  built  it  up  with  shells  and 
wet  sand  and  pebbles,  even  to  the  stately  gate  posts 
topped  by  lanterns.  Twigs  of  bayberry  and  wild 
beach  plum  made  trees  with  which  to  border  its  ave- 
nues, and  every  dear  delight  of  swing  and  arbor  and 
garden  pool  beloved  in  Barbara's  play-days,  was  re- 
produced in  miniature  until  Georgina  loved  them, 
too.  She  knew  just  where  the  bee-hives  ought  to  be 
put,  and  the  sun-dial,  and  the  hole  in  the  fence  where 
the  little  pigs  squeezed  through.  There  was  a  story 
for  everything.  By  the  time  she  had  outgrown  her 
lisp  she  could  make  the  whole  fair  structure  by  her- 
self, without  even  a  suggestion  from  Barbara. 

When  she  grew  older  the  shore  was  her  school- 
room also.  She  learned  to  read  from  letters  traced 
in  the -sand,  and  to  make  them  herself  with  shells 
and  pebbles.  She  did  her  sums  that  way,  too,  after 
she  had  learned  to  count  the  sails  in  the  harbor,  the 
gulls  feeding  at  ebb-tide,  and  the  great  granite  blocks 
which  formed  the  break-water. 

Mrs.  Triplett's  time  for  lessons  was  when  Geor- 


32  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

gina  was  following  her  about  the  house.  Such  fol- 
lowing taught  her  to  move  briskly,  for  Tippy,  like 
time  and  tide,  never  waited,  and  it  behooved  one  to 
be  close  at  her  heels  if  one  would  see  what  she  put 
into  a  pan  before  she  whisked  it  into  the  oven.  Also 
it  was  necessary  to  keep  up  with  her  as  she  moved 
swiftly  from  the  cellar  to  the  pantry  if  one  would 
hear  her  thrilling  tales  of  Indians  and  early  settlers 
and  brave  forefathers  of  colony  times. 

There  was  a  powder  horn  hanging  over  the  din- 
ing room  mantel,  which  had  been  in  the  battle  of 
Lexington,  and  Tippy  expected  Georgina  to  find  the 
same  inspiration  in  it  which  she  did,  because  the 
forefather  who  carried  it  was  an  ancestor  of  each. 

"The  idea  of  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  Minute- 
men  being  afraid  of  rats!"  she  would  say  with  a 
scornful  rolling  of  her  words  which  seemed  to  wither 
her  listener  with  ridicule.  "Or  of  an  empty  gar- 
ret! Tutr 

When  Georgina 'was  no  more  than  six,  that  dis- 
gusted "Tutl"  would  start  her  instantly  down  a 
dark  cellar-way  or  up  into  the  dreaded  garret,  even 
when  she  could  feel  the  goose-flesh  rising  all  over 
her.  Between  the  porringer,  which  obliged  her  to 
be  a  little  lady,  and  the  powder  horn,  which  obliged 
her  to  be  brave,  even  while  she  shivered,  some  times 
Georgina  felt  that  she  had  almost  too  much  to  live 
up  to.  There  were  times  when  she  was  sorry  that 
she  had  ancestors.  She  was  proud  to  think  that  one 


The  Towncrier  Has  His  Say         33 

of  them  shared  in  the  honors  of  the  tall  Pilgrim 
monument  overlooking  the  town  and  harbor,  but 
there  were  days  when  she  would  have  traded  him 
gladly  far  an  hour's  play  with  two  little  Portugese 
boys  a"d  their  sister,  who  often  wandered  up  to  the 
dunes  oack  of  the  house. 

She  had  watched  them  often  enough  to  know  that 
their  names  were  Manuel  and  Joseph  and  Rosa. 
They  were  beautiful  children,  such  as  some  of  the 
old  masters  delighted  to  paint,  but  they  fought  and 
quarreled  and — Tippy  said — used  "shocking  lan- 
guage." That  is  why  Georgina  was  not  allowed  to 
play  with  them,  but  she  often  stood  at  the  back  gate 
watching  them,  envying  their  good  times  together 
and  hoping  to  hear  a  sample  of  their  shocking  lan- 
guage. 

One  day  when  they  strolled  by  dragging  a  young 
puppy  in  a  rusty  saucepan  by  a  string  tied  to  the 
handle,  the  temptation  to  join  them  overcame  her. 
Inch  by  inch  her  hand  moved  up  nearer  the  forbid- 
den gate  latch  and  she  was  just  slipping  through  when 
old  Jeremy,  hidden  behind  a  hedge  where  he  was 
weeding  the  borders,  rose  up  like  an  all-seeing  dragon 
and  roared  at  her,  "Coom  away,  lass !  Ye  maun't 
do  that!" 

She  had  not  known  that  he  was  anywhere 
around,  and  the  voice  coming  suddenly  out  of  the 
unseen  startled  her  so  that  her  heart  seemed)  to 
jump  up  into  her  throat.  It  made  her  angry,  too. 


34  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Only  the  moment  before  she  had  heard  Rosa  scream 
at  Manuel,  "You  ain't  my  boss;  shut  your  big 
mouth  I" 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  scream  the  same 
thing  at  old  Jeremy  and  see  what  would  happen.  She 
felt,  instinctively,  that  this  was  shocking  language. 
But  she  had  not  yet  outgrown  the  lurking  fear  which 
always  seized  her  in  his  presence  that  either  her 
teeth  or  his  might  fly  out  if  she  wasn't  careful,  so 
she  made  no  answer.  But  compelled  to  vent  her  in- 
ward rebellion  in  some  way,  she  turned  her  back  on 
the  hedge  that  screene4  him  and  shook  the  gate  till 
the  latch  rattled. 

Looking  up  she  saw  the  tall  Pilgrim  monument 
towering  over  the  town  like  a  watchful  giant.  She 
had  a  feeling  that  it,  too,  was  spying  on  her.  No 
matter  where  she  went,  even  away  out  in  the  har- 
bor in  a  motor  boat,  it  was  always  stretching  its  long 
neck  up  to  watch  her.  Shaking  back  her  curls,  she 
looked  up  at  it  defiantly  and  made  a  face  at  it,  just 
the  ugliest  pucker  of  a  face  she  could  twist  her  lit- 
tle features  into. 

But  it  was  only  on  rare  occasions  that  Georgina 
felt  the  longing  for  playmates  of  her  own  £ge. 
Usually  she  was  busy  with  her  lessons  or  happily 
following  her  mother  and  Mrs.  Triplett  around  the 
house,  sharing  all  their  occupations.  In  jelly-making 
time  she  had  the  scrapings  of  the  kettle  to  fill  her 
own  little  glass.  When  they  sewed  she  sewed  with 


The  Towncrier  Has  His  Say         35 

them,  even  when  she  was  so  small  that  she  had  to 
have  the  thread  tied  in  the  needle's  eye,  and  could  do 
no  more  than  pucker  up  a  piece  of  soft  goods  into 
big  wallops.  But  by  the  time  she  was  nine  years  old 
she  had  learned  to  make  such  neat  stitches  that  Bar- 
bara sent  specimens  of  her  needlework  back  to  Ken- 
tucky, and  folded  others  away  in  a  little  trunk  of 
keepsakes,  to  save  for  her  until  she  should  be  grown. 

Also  by  the  time  she  was  nine  she  could  play  quite 
creditably  a  number  of  simple  Etudes  on  the  tinkly 
old  piano  which  had  lost  some  of  its  ivories.  Her 
daily  practicing  was  one  of  the  few  things  about 
which  Barbara  was  strict.  So  much  attention  had 
been  given  to  her  own  education  in  music  that  she 
found  joy  in  keeping  up  her  interest  in  it,  and  wanted 
to  make  it  one  of  Georgina's  chief  sources  of  pleas- 
ure. To  that  end  she  mixed  the  stories  of  the  great 
operas  and  composers  with  her  fairy  tales  and  folk 
lore,  until  the  child  knew  them  as  intimately  as  she 
did  her  Hans  Andersen  and  Uncle  Remus. 

They  often  acted  stories  together,  too.  Even  Mrs. 
Triplett  was  dragged  into  these,  albeit  unwillingly, 
for  minor  but  necessary  parts.  For  instance,  in 
"Lord  Ullin's  Daughter,"  she  could  keep  on  with  her 
knitting  and  at  the  same  time  do  "the  horsemen  hard 
behind  us  ride,"  by  clapping  her  heels  on  the  hearth 
to  sound  like  hoof-beats. 

Acting  came  as  naturally  to  Georgina  as  breathing. 
She  could  not  repeat  the  simplest  message  without 


36  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

unconsciously  imitating  the  tone  and  gesture  of  the 
one  who  sent  it.  This  dramatic  instinct  made  a 
good  reader  of  her  when  she  took  her  turn  with  Bar- 
bara in  reading  aloud.  They  used  to  take  page 
about,  sitting  with  their  arms  around  each  other  on 
the  old  claw-foot  sofa,  backed  up  against  the  library 
table. 

At  such  performances  the  old  Towncrier  was 
often  an  interested  spectator.  Barbara  welcomed 
him  when  he  first  came  because  he  seemed  to  want  to 
talk  about  Justin  as  much  as  she  desired  to  hear. 
Later  she  welcomed  him  for  his  own  sake,  and  grew 
to  depend  upon  him  for  counsel  and  encouragement. 
Most  of  all  she  appreciated  his  affectionate  interest 
in  Georgina.  If  he  had  been  her  own  grandfather 
he  could  not  have  taken  greater  pride  in  her  little 
accomplishments.  More  than  once  he  had  tied  her 
thread  in  her  needle  for  her  when  she  was  learning 
to  sew,  and  it  was  his  unfailing  praise  of  her  awk- 
ward attempts  which  encouraged  her  to  keep  on  until 
her  stitches  were  really  praiseworthy. 

He  applauded  her  piano  playing  from  her  first 
stumbling  attempt  at  scales  to  the  last  simple  waltz 
she  had  just  learned.  He  attended  many  readings, 
beginning  with  words  of  one  syllable,  on  up  to  such 
books  as  "The  Leatherstocking  Tales."  He  came 
fn  one  day,  however,  as  they  were  finishing  a  chapter 
in  one  of  the  Judge's  favorite  novels,  and  no  sooner 
had  Georgina  skipped  out  of  the  room  on  an  errand 


The  Towncrier  Has  His  Say         37 

than  he  began  to  take  her  mother  to  task  for  allow- 
ing her  to  read  anything  of  that  sort. 

"You'll  make  the  lass  old  before  her  time!"  he 
scolded.  "A  little  scrap  like  her  ought  to  be  playing 
with  other  children  instead  of  reading  books  so  far 
over  her  head  that  she  can  only  sort  of  tip-toe  up  to 
them." 

"But  it's  the  stretching  that  makes  her  grow, 
Uncle  Darcy,"  Barbara  answered  in  an  indulgent 
tone.  He  went  on  heedless  of  her  interruption. 

"And  she  tells  me  that  she  sometimes  sits  as  much 
as  an  hour  at  a  time,  listening  to  you  play  on  the 
piano,  especially  if  it's  'sad  music  that  makes  you 
think  of  someone  looking  off  to  sea  for  a  ship  that 
never  comes  in,  or  of  waves  creeping  up  in  a  lonely 
place  where  the  fog-bell  tolls.'  Those  were  her  ver^ 
words,  and  she  looked  so  mournful  that  it  worried 
me.  It  isn't  natural  for  a  child  of  her  age  to  sit  with 
a  far-away  look  in  her  eyes,  as  if  she  were  seeing 
things  that  ain't  there." 

Barbara  laughed. 

"Nonsense,  Uncle  Darcy.  As  long  as  she  keeps 
her  rosy  cheeks  and  is  full  of  life,  a  little  dreaming 
can't  hurt  her.  You  should  have  seen  her  doing  the 
elfin  dance  this  morning.  She  entered  into  the  spirit 
of  it  like  a  little  whirlwind.  And,  besides,  there  are 
no  children  anywhere  near  that  I  can  allow  her  to 
play  with.  I  have  only  a  few  acquaintances  in  the 
town,  and  they  are  too  far  from  us  to  make  visiting 


38  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

easy  between  the  children.  But  look  at  the  time  / 
give  to  her.  I  play  with  her  so  much  that  we're  more 
like  two  chums  than  mother  and  child." 

"Yes,  but  it  would  be  better  for  both  of  you  if  you 
had  more  friends  outside.  Then  Georgina  wouldn't 
feel  the  sadness  of  'someone  looking  off  to  sea  for 
a  ship  that  never  comes  in.'  She  feels  your  separa- 
tion from  Justin  and  your  watching  for  his  letters 
and  your  making  your  whole  life  just  a  waiting  time 
between  his  furloughs,  more  than  you  have  any  idea 
of." 

"But,  Uncle  Darcy!"  exclaimed  Barbara,  "it 
would  be  just  the  same  no  matter  how  many  friends 
I  had.  They  couldn't  make  me  forget  his  absence." 

"No,  but  they  could  get  you  interested  in  other 
things,  and  Georgina  would  feel  the  difference,  and 
be  happier  because  you  would  not  seem  to  be  wait- 
ing and  anxious.  There's  some  rare,  good  people  m 
this  town,  old  friends  of  the  family  who  tried  to  make 
you  feel  at  home  among  them  when  you  first  came." 

"I  know,"  admitted  Barbara,  slowly,  "but  I  was 
so  young  then,  and  so  homesick  that  strangers  didn't 
interest  me.  Now  Georgina  is  old  enough  to  be 
thoroughly  companionable,  and  our  music  and  sew- 
ing and  household  duties  fill  our  days." 

It  was  a  subject  they  had  discussed  before,  with- 
out either  convincing  the  other,  and  the  old  man  had 
always  gone  away  at  such  times  with  a  feeling  of 
defeat.  But  this  time  as  he  took  his  leave,  it  was 


The  Towncrier  Has  His  Say 


39 


with  the  determination  to  take  the  matter  in  hand 
himself.  He  felt  he  owed  it  to  the  Judge  to  do  that 
much  for  his  grandchild.  The  usual  crowds  of  sum- 
mer people  would  be  coming  soon.  He  had  heard 
that  Gray  Inn  was  to  be  re-opened  this  summer. 
That  meant  there  would  probably  be  children  at  this 
end  of  the  beach.  If  Opportunity  came  that  near 
to  Georgina's  door  he  knew  several  ways  of  induc- 
ing it  to  knock.  So  he  went  off  smiling  to  himself. 


CHAPTER    IV 

NEW   FRIENDS  AND   THE   GREEN   STAIRS 

HPHE  town  filled  up  with  artists  earlier  than  usual 
•*•  that  summer.  Stable  lofts  and  old  boathouses 
along  the  shore  blossomed  into  studios.  Sketching 
classes  met  in  the  rooms  of  the  big  summer  art 
schools  which  made  the  Cape  end  famous,  or  set  up 
their  models  down  by  the  wharfs.  One  ran  into 
easels  pitched  in  the  most  public  places :  on  busy  street 
corners,  on  the  steps  of  the  souvenir  shops  and  even 
in  front  of  the  town  hall.  People  in  paint-besmeared 
smocks,  loaded  with  canvases,  sketching  stools  and 
palettes,  filled  the  board-walk  and  overflowed  into 
the  middle  of  the  street. 

The  Dorothy  Bradford  steamed  up  to  the  wharf 
from  Boston  with  her  daily  load  of  excursionists,  and 
the  "accommodation"  busses  began  to  ply  up  and 
down  the  three  miles  of  narrow  street  with  its  rest- 
less tide  of  summer  visitors. 

Up  along,  through  the  thick  of  it  one  June  morn- 
ing, came  the  Towncrier,  a  picturesque  figure  in  his 
short  blue  jacket  and  wide  seaman's  trousers,  a  red 
bandanna  knotted  around  his  throat  and  a  wide- 
rimmed  straw  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

40 


New  Friends  and  the  Green  Stairs     41 

"Notice!"  he  cried,  after  each  vigorous  ringing 
of  his  big  brass  bell.  "Lost,  between  Mayflower 
Heights  and  the  Gray  Inn,  a  black  leather  bill-case 
with  important  papers." 

He  made  slow  progress,  for  someone  stopped  him 
at  almost  every  rod  with  a  word  of  greeting,  and 
he  stopped  to  pat  every  dog  which  thrust  a  friendly 
nose  into  his  hand  in  passing.  Several  times  strangers 
stepped  up  to  him  to  inquire  into  his  affairs  as  if  he 
were  some  ancient  historical  personage  come  to  life. 
Once  he  heard  a  man  say: 

"Quick  with  your  kodak,  Ethel.  Catch  the  Town- 
crier  as  he  comes  along.  They  say  there's  only  one 
other  place  in  the  whole  United  States  that  has  one. 
You  can't  afford  to  miss  anything  this  quaint." 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  he  came  towards  the  end 
of  the  beach.  He  walked  still  more  slowly  here, 
for  many  cottages  had  been  opened  for  summer  resi- 
dents since  the  last  time  he  passed  along,  and  he 
knew  some  of  the  owners.  He  noticed  that  the  loft 
above  a  boat-house  which  had  once  been  the  studio 
of  a  famous  painter  of  marine  scenes  was  again  in 
use.  He  wondered  who  had  taken  it.  Almost  across 
from  it  was  the  "Green  Stairs"  where  Georgina  al- 
ways came  to  meet  him  if  she  were  outdoors  and 
heard  his  bell. 

The  "Green  Stairs"  was  the  name  she  had  given  to 
a  long  flight  of  wooden  steps  with  a  railing  on  each 
side,  leading  from  the  sidewalk  up  a  steep  embank- 


42  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

ment  to  the  bungalow  on  top.  It  was  a  wide-spread- 
ing bungalow  with  as  many  windows  looking  out  to 
sea  as  a  lighthouse,  and  had  had  an  especial  interest 
for  Georgina,  since  she  heard  someone  say  that  its 
owner,  Mr.  Milford,  was  an  old  bachelor  who  lived 
by  himself.  She  used  to  wonder  when  she  was 
younger  if  "all  the  bread  and  cheese  he  got  he  kept 
upon  a  shelf."  Once  she  asked  Barbara  why  he 
didn't  "go  to  London  to  get  him  a  wife,"  and  was 
told  probably  because  he  had  so  many  guests  that 
there  wasn't  time.  Interesting  people  were  always 
coming  and  going  about  the  house;  men  famous  for 
things  they  had  done  or  written  or  painted. 

Now  as  the  Towncrier  came  nearer,  he  saw 
Georgina  skipping  along  toward  him  with  her  jump- 
ing rope.  She  was  bare-headed,  her  pink  dress  flut- 
tering in  the  salt  breeze,  her  curls  blowing  back  from 
her  glowing  little  face.  He  would  have  hastened  his 
steps  to  meet  her,  but  his  honest  soul  always  de- 
manded a  certain  amount  of  service  from  himself  for 
the  dollar  paid  him  for  each  trip  of  this  kind.  So 
he  went  on  at  his  customary  gait,  stopping  at  the 
usual  intervals  to  ring  his  bell  and  call  his  news. 

At  the  Green  Stairs  Georgina  paused,  her  atten- 
tion attracted  by  a  foreign-looking  battleship  just 
steaming  into  the  harbor.  She  was  familiar  with 
nearly  every  kind  of  sea-going  craft  that  ever  an- 
chored here,  but  she  could  not  classify  this  one.  With 
her  hands  behind  her,  clasping  her  jumping  rope 


New  Friends  and  the  Green  Stairs     43 

ready  for  another  throw,  she  stood  looking  out  to 
sea.  Presently  a  slight  scratching  sound  behind  her 
made  her  turn  suddenly.  Then  she  drew  back 
startled,  for  she  was  face  to  face  with  a  dog  which 
was  sitting  on  the  step  just  on  a  level  with  her  eyes. 
He  was  a  ragged-looking  tramp  of  a  dog,  an  Irish 
terrier,  but  he  looked  at  her  in  such  a  knowing, 
human  way  that  she  spoke  to  him  as  if  he  had  been 
a  person. 

"For  goodness'  sake,  how  you  made  me  jump !  I 
didn't  know  anybody  was  sitting  there  behind  me." 

It  was  almost  uncanny  the  way  his  eyes  twinkled 
through  his  hair,  as  if  he  were  laughing  with  her 
over  some  good  joke  they  had  together.  It  gave  her 
such  a  feeling  of  comradeship  that  she  stood  and 
smiled  back  at  him.  Suddenly  he  raised  his  right 
paw  and  thrust  it  towards  her.  She  drew  back  an- 
other step.  She  was  not  used  to  dogs,  and  she  hesi- 
tated about  touching  anything  with  such  claws  in  it 
as  the  paw  he  gravely  presented. 

But  as  he  continued  to  hold  it  out  she  felt  it 
would  be  impolite  not  to  respond  in  some  way,  so 
reaching  out  very  cautiously  she  gave  it  a  limp  shake. 
Then  as  he  still  kept  looking  at  her  with  questioning 
eyes  she  asked  quite  as  if  she  expected  him  to  speak, 
"What's  your  name,  Dog?" 

A  voice  from  the  top  of  the  steps  answered,  "It's 
Captain  Kidd."  Even  more  startled  than  when  the 
dog  had  claimed  her  attention,  she  glanced  up  to 


44  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

see  a  small  boy  on  the  highest  step.  He  was  sucking 
an  orange,  but  he  took  his  mouth  away  from  it  long 
enough  to  add,  "His  name's  on  his  collar  that  he  got 
yesterday,  and  so's  mine.  You  can  look  at  'em  if  you 
want  to." 

Georgina  leaned  forward  to  peer  at  the  engraving 
on  the  front  of  the  collar,  but  the  hair  on  the  shaggy 
throat  hid  it,  and  she  was  timid  about  touching  a 
spot  just  below  such  a  wide  open  mouth  with  a  red 
tongue  lolling  out  of  it.  She  put  her  hands  behind 
her  instead. 

"Is — is  he — a  pirate  dog?"  she  ventured. 

The  boy  considered  a  minute,  not  wanting  to  say 
yes  if  pirates  were  not  respectable  in  her  eyes,  and 
not  wanting  to  lose  the  chance  of  glorifying  him  if 
she  held  them  in  as  high  esteem  as  he  did.  After  a 
long  meditative  suck  at  his  orange  he  announced, 
"Well,  he's  just  as  good  as  one.  He  buries  all  his 
treasures.  That's  why  we  call  him  Captain  Kidd." 

Georgina  shot  a  long,  appraising  glance  at  the 
boy  from  under  her  dark  lashes.  His  eyes  were 
dark,  too.  There  was  something  about  him  that  at- 
tracted her,  even  if  his  face  was  smeary  with  orange 
juice  and  streaked  with  dirty  finger  marks.  She 
wanted  to  ask  more  about  Captain  Kidd,  but  her 
acquaintance  with  boys  was  as  slight  as  with  dogs. 
Overcome  by  a  sudden  shyness  she  threw  her  rope 
over  her  head  and  went  skipping  on  down  the  board- 
walk to  meet  the  Towncrier. 


New  Friends  and  the  Green  Stairs     45 

The  boy  stood  up  and  looked  after  her.  He 
wished  she  hadn't  been  in  such  a  hurry.  It  had  been 
the  longest  morning  he  ever  lived  through.  Hav- 
ing arrived  only  the  day  before  with  his  father  to 
visit  at  the  bungalow  he  hadn't  yet  discovered  what 
there  was  for  a  boy  to  do  in  this  strange  place. 
Everybody  had  gone  off  and  left  him  with  the  ser- 
vants, and  told  him  to  play  around  till  they  got  back. 
It  wouldn't  be  long,  they  said,  but  he  had  waited  and 
waited  until  he  felt  he  had  been  looking  out  to  sea 
from  the  top  of  those  green  steps  all  the  days  of  his 
life.  Of  course,  he  wouldn't  want  to  play  with  just 
a  girl,  but 

He  watched  the  pink  dress  go  fluttering  on,  and 
then  he  saw  Georgina  take  the  bell  away  from  the 
old  man  as  if  it  were  her  right  to  do  so.  She  turned 
and  walked  along  beside  him,  tinkling  it  faintly  as 
she  talked.  He  wished  he  had  a  chance  at  it.  He'd 
show  her  how  loud  he  could  make  it  sound. 

"Notice,"  called  the  old  man,  seeing  faces  appear 
at  some  of  the  windows  they  were  passing.  "Lost, 
a  black  leather  bill-case " 

The  boy,  listening  curiously,  slid  down  the  steps 
until  he  reached  the  one  on  which  the  dog  was  sitting, 
and  put  his  arm  around  its  neck.  The  banister  posts 
hid  him  from  the  approaching  couple.  He  could 
hear  Georgina's  eager  voice  piping  up  flute-like  : 

"It's  a  pirate  dog,  Uncle  Darcy.  He's  named 
Captain  Kidd  because  he  buries  his  treasures." 


46  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

In  answer  the  old  man's  quavering  voice  rose  in 
a  song  which  he  had  roared  lustily  many  a  time  in 
his  younger  days,  aboard  many  a  gallant  vessel: 

"Oh,  my  name  is  Captain  Kida\, 
And  many  wick-ud  things  I  did, 
And  heaps  of  gold  I  hid, 
As  I  sailed." 

The  way  his  voice  slid  down  on  the  word  wick-w^ 
made  a  queer  thrilly  feeling  run  down  the  boy's  back, 
and  all  of  a  sudden  the  day  grew  wonderfully  in- 
teresting, and  this  old  seaport  town  one  of  the  nicest 
places  he  had  ever  been  in.  The  singer  stopped  at 
the  steps  and  Georgina,  disconcerted  at  finding  the 
boy  at  such  close  range  when  she  expected  to  see  him 
far  above  her,  got  no  further  in  her  introduction  to 
Captain  Kidd  than  "Here  he " 

But  the  old  man  needed  no  introduction.  He  had 
only  to  speak  to  the  dog  to  set  every  inch  of  him 
quivering  in  affectionate  response.  "Here's  a  friend 
worth  having,"  the  raggedy  tail  seemed  to  signal  in 
a  wig-wag  code  of  its  own. 

Then  the  wrinkled  hand  went  from  the  dog's  head 
to  the  boy's  shoulder  with  the  same  kind  of  an  af- 
fectionate pat.  "What's  your  name,  son?" 

"Richard  Morland." 

"What?"  was  the  surprised  question.  "Are  you 
a  son  of  the  artist  Morland,  who  is  visiting  up  here 
at  the  Milford  bungalow?" 


New  Friends  and  the  Green  Stairs     47' 

"Yes,  that's  us." 

"Well,  bless  my  stars,  it's  his  bill-case  I  have  been 
crying  all  morning.  If  I'd  known  there  was  a  fine 
lad  like  you  sitting  about  doing  nothing,  I'd  had  you 
with  me,  ringing  the  bell." 

The  little  fellow's  face  glowed.  He  was  as  quick 
to  recognize  a  friend  worth  having  as  Captain  Kidd 
had  been. 

"Say,"  he  began,  "if  it  was  Daddy's  bill-case  you 
were  shouting  about,  you  needn't  do  it  any  longer. 
It's  found.  Captain  Kidd  came  in  with  it  in  his 
mouth  just  after  Daddy  went  away.  He  was  start- 
ing to  dig  a  hole  in  the  sand  down  by  the  garage  to 
bury  it  in,  like  he  does  everything.  He's  hardly  done 
being  a  puppy  yet,  you  know.  I  took  it  away  from 
him  and  reckanized  it,  and  I've  been  waiting  here 
all  morning  for  Dad  to  come  home." 

He  began  tugging  at  the  pocket  into  which  he  had 
stowed  the  bill-case  for  safe-keeping,  and  Captain 
Kidd,  feeling  that  it  was  his  by  right  of  discovery, 
stood  up,  wagging  himself  all  over,  and  poking  his 
nose  in  between  them,  with  an  air  of  excited  interest. 
The  Towncrier  shook  his  finger  at  him. 

"You  rascal !  I  suppose  you'll  be  claiming  the  re- 
ward next  thing,  you  old  pirate!  How  old  is  he, 
Richard?" 

"About  a  year.  He  was  given  to  me  when  he  was 
just  a  little  puppy." 

"And  how  old  are  you,  son?" 


48  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Ten  my  last  birthday,  but  I'm  so  big  for  my  age 
I  wear  'leven-year-old  suits." 

Now  the  Towncrier  hadn't  intended  to  stop,  but 
the  dog  began  burrowing  its  head  ecstatically  against 
him,  and  there  was  something  in  the  boy's  lonesome, 
dirty  little  face  which  appealed  to  him,  and  the  next 
thing  he  knew  he  was  sitting  on  the  bottom  step  of 
the  Green  Stairs  with  Georgina  beside  him,  telling 
the  most  thrilling  pirate  story  he  knew.  And  he  told 
it  more  thrillingly  than  he  had  ever  told  it  before. 
The  reason  for  this  was  he  had  never  had  such  a 
spellbound  listener  before.  Not  even  Justin  had 
hung  on  each  word  with  the  rapt  interest  this  boy 
showed.  His  dark  eyes  seemed  to  grow  bigger  and 
more  luminous  with  each  sentence,  more  intense  in 
their  piercing  gaze.  His  sensitive  mouth  changed 
expression  with  every  phase  of  the  adventure — dan- 
ger, suspense,  triumph.  He  scarcely  breathed,  he 
was  listening  so  hard. 

Suddenly  the  whistle  at  the  cold-storage  plant 
began  to  blow  for  noon,  and  the  old  man  rose  stiffly, 
saying: 

"I'm  a  long  way  from  home,  I  should  have  started 
back  sooner." 

"Oh,  but  you  haven't  finished  the  story!"  cried  the 
boy,  in  distress  at  this  sudden  ending.  "It  couldn't 
stop  there." 

Georgina  caught  him  by  the  sleeve  of  the  old  blue 
jacket  to  pull  him  back  to  the  seat  beside  her. 


New  Friends  and  the  Green  Stairs     49 

"Please,  Uncle  Darcy!" 

It  was  the  first  time  in  all  her  coaxing  that  that 
magic  word  failed  to  bend  him  to  her  wishes. 

"No,"  he  answered  firmly,  "I  can't  finish  it  now, 
but  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  This  afternoon  I'll  row 
up  to  this  end  of  the  beach  in  my  dory  and  take  you 
two  children  out  to  the  weirs  to  see  the  net  hauled 
in.  There's  apt  to  be  a  big  catch  of  squid  worth 
going  to  see,  and  I'll  finish  the  story  on  the  way. 
Will  that  suit  you?" 

Richard  stood  up,  as  eager  and  excited  as  Cap- 
tain Kidd  always  was  when  anybody  said  "Rats!" 
But  the  next  instant  the  light  died  out  of  his  eyes  and 
he  plumped  himself  gloomily  down  on  the  step,  as 
if  life  were  no  longer  worth  living. 

"Oh,  bother!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  forgot.  I  can't 
go  anywhere.  Dad's  painting  my  portrait,  and  I 
have  to  stick  around  so's  he  can  work  on  it  any  old 
time  he  feels  like  it.  That's  why  he  brought  me  on 
this  visit  with  him,  so's  he  can  Hnish  it  up  here." 

"Maybe  you  can  beg  off,  just  for  to-day,"  sug- 
gested Mr.  Darcy. 

"No,  it's  very  important,"  he  explained  gravely. 
"It's  the  best  one  Daddy's  done  yet,  and  the  last 
thing  before  we  left  home  Aunt  Letty  said,  'What- 
ever you  do,  boys,  don't  let  anything  interfere  with 
getting  that  picture  done  in  time  to  hang  in  the  ex- 
hibition,' and  we  both  promised." 

There  was  gloomy  silence  for  a  moment,  broken 
by  the  old  man's  cheerful  voice. 


£O  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Well,  don't  you  worry  till  you  see  what  we  can  do. 
I  want  to  see  your  father  anyhow  about  this  bill-case 
business,  so  I'll  come  around  this  afternoon,  and  if 
he  doesn't  let  you  off  to-day  maybe  he  will  to-morrow. 
Just  trust  your  Uncle  Darcy  for  getting  where  he 
starts  out  to  go.  Skip  along  home,  Georgina,  and 
tell  your  mother  I  want  to  borrow  you  for  the  after- 
noon." 

An  excited  little  pink  whirlwind  with  a  jumping 
rope  going  over  and  over  its  head,  went  flying  up 
the  street  toward  the  end  of  the  beach.  A  smiling 
old  man  with  age  looking  out  of  his  faded  blue  eyes 
but  with  the  spirit  of  boyhood  undimmed  in  his 
heart,  walked  slowly  down  towards  the  town.  And 
on  the  bottom  step  of  the  Green  Stairs,  his  arm 
around  Captain  Kidd,  the  boy  sat  watching  them, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other  as  long  as  they  were 
in  sight.  The  heart  of  him  was  pounding  deliciously 
to  the  music  of  such  phrases  as,  "Fathoms  deep, 
lonely  beach,  spade  and  pickaxe,  skull  and  cross- 
bones,  bags  of  golden  doubloons  and  chests  of  ducats 
and  pearls!" 


CHAPTER   V 

IN   THE    FOOTSTEPS    OF    PIRATES 

A  I  AHE  weirs,  to  which  they  took  their  way  that 
•*-  afternoon  in  the  Towncrier's  dory,  The  Betsey, 
was  "the  biggest  fish-trap  in  any  waters  thereabouts," 
the  old  man  told  them.  And  it  happened  that  the 
net  held  an  unusually  large  catch  that  day.  Barrels 
and  barrels  of  flapping  squid  and  mackerel  were 
emptied  into  the  big  motor  boat  anchored  alongside 
of  it. 

At  a  word  from  Uncle  Darcy,  an  obliging  fisher- 
man in  oilskins  held  out  his  hand  to  help  the  chil- 
dren scramble  over  the  side  of  The  Betsey  to  a  seat 
on  top  of  the  cabin  where  they  could  have  a  better 
view.  All  the  crew  were  Portuguese.  The  man  who 
helped  them  climb  over  was  Joe  Fayal,  father  of 
Manuel  and  Joseph  and  Rosa.  He  stood  like  a 
young  brown  Neptune,  his  white  teeth  flashing  when 
he  laughed,  a  pitchfork  in  his  hands  with  which 
to  spear  the  goosefish  as  they  turned  up  in  the  net, 
and  throw  them  back  into  the  sea.  If  nothing  else 
had  happened  that  sight  alone  was  enough  to  mark 
it  as  a  memorable  afternoon. 

Nothing  else  did  happen,  really,  except  that  on 
si 


52  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

the  way  out,  Uncle  Darcy  finished  the  story  begun 
on  the  Green  Stairs  and  on  the  way  back  told  them 
another.  But  what  Richard  remembered  ever  after 
as  seeming  to  have  happened,  was  that  The  Betsey 
suddenly  turned  into  a  Brigantine.  Perched  up  on 
one  of  the  masts,  an  unseen  spectator,  he  watched  a 
mutiny  flare  up  among  the  sailors,  and  saw  that 
"strutting,  swaggering  villain,  John  Quelch,  throw 
the  captain  overboard  and  take  command  himself." 
He  saw  them  hoist  a  flag  they  called  "Old  Roger," 
"having  in  the  middle  of  it  an  Anatomy  (skeleton) 
with  an  hour-glass  in  one  hand  and  a  dart  in  the 
heart  with  three  drops  of  blood  proceeding  from 
it." 

He  heard  the  roar  that  went  up  from  all  those 
bearded  throats — (wonderful  how  Uncle  Darcy's 
thin,  quavering  voice  could  sound  that  whole 
chorus) 

"Of  all  the  lives,  I  ever  say, 
A  Pirate's  be  for  I. 
Hap  what  hap  may,  he's  allus  gay 
An'  drinks  an'  bungs  his  eye. 
For  his  work  he's  never  loth, 
An'  a-pleasurin'  he'll  go 
Tho'  certain  sure  to  be  popt  off. 
Yo  ho,  with  the  rum  below" 


In  the  Footsteps  of  Pirates  53 

nine  of  them,  and  took  them  all  (What  a  bloody  fight 
it  was!),  and  sailed  away  with  a  dazzling  store  of 
treasure,  "enough  to  make  an  honest  sailorman  rub 
his  eyes  and  stagger  in  his  tracks." 

Richard  had  not  been  brought  up  on  stories  as 
Georgina  had.  He  had  had  few  of  this  kind,  and 
none  so  breathlessly  realistic.  It  carried  him  out 
of  himself  so  completely  that  as  they  rowed  slowly 
back  to  town  he  did  not  see  a  single  house  in  it,  al- 
though every  western  window-pane  flashed  back  the 
out-going  sun  like  a  golden  mirror.  His  serious, 
brown  eyes  were  following  the  adventures  of  these 
bold  sea-robbers,  "marooned  three  times  and 
wounded  nine  and  blowed  up  in  the  air." 

When  all  of  a  sudden  the  brigantine  changed  back 
into  The  Betsey,  and  he  had  to  climb  out  at  the  boat- 
landing,  he  had  somewhat  of  the  dazed  feeling  of 
that  honest  sailor-man.  He  had  heard  enough  to 
make  him  "rub  his  eyes  and  stagger  in  his  tracks." 

Uncle  Darcy,  having  put  them  ashore,  rowed  off 
with  the  parting  injunction  to  skip  along  home. 
Georgina  did  skip,  so  light  of  foot  and  quick  of 
movement  that  she  was  in  the  lead  all  the  way  to  the 
Green  Stairs.  There  she  paused  and  waited  for 
Richard  to  join  her.  As  he  came  up  he  spoke  for 
the  first  time  since  leaving  the  weirs. 

"Wish  I  knew  the  boys  in  this  town.  Wish  I 
knew  which  one  would  be  the  best  to  get  to  go  dig- 
ging with  me." 


54  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Georgina  did  not  need  to  ask,  "digging  for  what?" 
She,  too,  had  been  thinking  of  buried  treasure. 

"/'//  go  with  you,"  she  volunteered  sweetly. 

He  turned  on  her  an  inquiring  look,  as  if  he  were 
taking  her  measure,  then  glanced  away  indifferently. 

"You  couldn't.    You're  a  girl." 

It  was  a  matter-of-fact  statement  with  no  sus- 
picion of  a  taunt  in  it,  but  it  stung  Georgina's  pride. 
Her  eyes  blazed  defiantly  and  she  tossed  back  her 
curls  with  a  proud  little  uplift  of  the  chin.  It  must 
be  acknowledged  that  her  nose,  too,  took  on  the 
trifle  of  a  tilt.  Her  challenge  was  unspoken  but  so 
evident  that  he  answered  it. 

"Well,  you  know  you  couldn't  creep  out  into  the 
night  and  go  along  a  lonely  shore  into  dark  caves 
and  everything." 

"Pity  I  couldn't!"  she  answered  with  withering 
scorn.  "I  could  go  anywhere  you  could,  anybody 
descended  from  heroes  like  /  am.  I  don't  want  to  be 
braggity,  but  I'd  have  you  to  know  they  put  up  that 
big  monument  over  there  for  one  of  them,  and  an- 
other was  a  Minute-man.  With  all  that,  for  you 
to  think  I'd  be  afraid!  Tut/" 

Not  Tippy  herself  had  ever  spoken  that  word 
with  finer  scorn.  With  a  flirt  of  her  short  skirts 
Georgina  turned  and  started  disdainfully  up  the 
street. 

"Wait,"  called  Richard.  He  liked  the  sudden 
flare-up  of  her  manner.  There  was  something  con- 


In  the  Footsteps  of  Pirates  55 

vincing  about  it.  Besides,  he  didn't  want  her  to  go 
off  in  that  independent  way  as  if  she  meant  never  to 
come  back.  It  was  she  who  had  brought  the  Town- 
crier,  that  matchless  Teller  of  Tales,  across  his  path. 

"I  didn't  say  you  wasn't  brave,"  he  called  after 
her. 

She  hesitated,  then  stopped,  turning  half-way 
around. 

"I  just  said  you  was  a  girl.  Most  of  them  are 
'fraid  cats,  but  if  you  ain't  I  don't  know  as  I'd  mind 
taking  you  along.  That  is,"  he  added  cautiously,  "if 
I  could  be  dead  sure  that  you're  game." 

At  that  Georgina  turned  all  the  way  around  and 
came  back  a  few  steps. 

"You  can  try  me,"  she  answered,  anxious  to  prove 
herself  worthy  to  be  taken  on  such  a  quest,  and  as 
eager  as  he  to  begin  it. 

"You  think  of  the  thing  you're  most  afraid  of 
yourself,  and  tell  me  to  do  it,  and  then  just  watch 
me." 

Richard  declined  to  admit  any  fear  of  anything. 
Georgina  named  several  terrors  at  which  he  stoutly 
shook  his  head,  but  presently  with  uncanny  insight 
she  touched  upon  his  weakest  point. 

"Would  you  be  afraid  of  coffins  and  spooks  or  to 
go  to  a  graveyard  in  the  dead  of  the  night  the  way 
Tom  Sawyer  and  Huck  Finn  did?" 

Not  having  read  Tom  Sawyer,  Richard  evaded  the 
question  by  asking,  "How  did  they  do?" 


56  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Oh,  don't  you  know?  They  had  the  dead  cat 
and  they  saw  old  Injun  Joe  come  with  the  lantern  and 
kill  the  man  that  was  with  Muff  Potter." 

By  the  time  Georgina  had  given  the  bare  outline  of 
the  story  in  her  dramatic  way,  Richard  was  quite  sure 
that  no  power  under  heaven  could  entice  him  into  a 
graveyard  at  midnight,  though  nothing  could  have 
induced  him  to  admit  this  to  Georgina.  As  far  back 
as  he  could  remember  he  had  had  an  unreasoning 
dread  of  coffins.  Even  now,  big  as  he  was,  big 
enough  to  wear  "  'leven-year-old  suits,"  nothing 
could  tempt  him  into  a  furniture  shop  for  fear  of 
seeing  a  coffin. 

One  of  his  earliest  recollections  was  of  his  nurse 
taking  him  into  a  little  shop,  at  some  village  where 
they  were  spending  the  summer,  and  his  cold  terror 
when  he  found  himself  directly  beside  a  long  brown 
one,  smelling  of  varnish,  and  with  silver  handles. 
His  nurse's  tales  had  much  to  do  with  creating  this 
repulsion,  also  her  threat  of  shutting  him  up  in  a 
coffin  if  he  wasn't  a  good  boy.  When  she  found 
that  she  could  exact  obedience  by  keeping  that  dread 
hanging  over  him,  she  used  the  threat  daily. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he  said  finally.  "I'll 
let  you  go  digging  with  me  if  you're  game  enough  to 
go  to  the  graveyard  and  walk  clear  across  it  all  by 
yourself  and" — dropping  his  voice  to  a  hollow  whis- 
per— "touch — ten — tombstones!" 

Now,  if  Richard  hadn't  dropped  his  voice  in  that 


In  the  Footsteps  of  Pirates  57 

scary  way  when  he  said,  "and  touch  ten  tombstones," 
it  would  have  been  no  test  at  all  of  Georgina's  cour- 
age. Strange,  how  just  his  way  of  saying  those  four 
words  suddenly  made  the  act  such  a  fearsome  one. 

"Do  it  right  now,"  he  suggested. 

"But  it  isn't  night  yet,"  she  answered,  "let  alone 
being  mid-night." 

"No,  but  it's  clouding  up,  and  the  sun's  down.  By 
the  time  we'd  get  to  a  graveyard  it  would  be  dark 
enough  for  me  to  tell  if  you're  game." 

Up  to  this  time  Georgina  had  never  gone  any- 
where without  permission.  But  this  was  something 
one  couldn't  explain  very  well  at  home.  It  seemed 
better  to  do  it  first  and  explain  afterward. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  two  children  and  a  dog 
arrived  hot  and  panting  at  the  entrance  to  the  old 
burying  ground.  On  a  high  sand  dune,  covered  with 
thin  patches  of  beach  and  poverty  grass,  and  a  sparse 
growth  of  scraggly  pines,  it  was  a  desolate  spot  at 
any  time,  and  now  doubly  so  in  the  gathering  twi- 
light. The  lichen-covered  slabs  that  marked  the 
graves  of  the  early  settlers  leaned  this  way  and  that 
along  the  hill. 

The  gate  was  locked,  but  Georgina  found  a  place 
where  the  palings  were  loose,  and  squeezed  through, 
leaving  Richard  and  the  dog  outside.  They  watched 
her  through  the  fence  as  she  toiled  up  the  steep  hill. 
The  sand  was  so  deep  that  she  plunged  in  over  her 
shoe-tops  at  every  step.  Once  on  top  it  was  easier 


58  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

going.  The  matted  beach  grass  made  a  firm  turf. 
She  stopped  and  read  the  names  on  some  of  the 
slabs  before  she  plucked  up  courage  to  touch  one. 
She  would  not  have  hesitated  an  instant  if  only 
Richard  had  not  dared  her  in  that  scary  way. 

Some  little,  wild  creature  started  up  out  of  the 
grass  ahead  of  her  and  scurried  away.  Her  heart 
beat  so  fast  she  could  hear  the  blood  pounding 
against  her  ear-drums.  She  looked  back.  Richard 
was  watching,  and  she  was  to  wave  her  hand  each 
time  she  touched  a  stone  so  that  he  could  keep  count 
with  her.  She  stooped  and  peered  at  one,  trying  to 
read  the  inscription.  The  clouds  had  hurried  the 
coming  of  twilight.  It  was  hard  to  decipher  the 
words. 

"None  knew  him  but  to  love  him,"  she  read  slowly. 
Instantly  her  dread  of  the  place  vanished.  She  laid 
her  hand  on  the  stone  and  then  waved  to  Richard. 
Then  she  ran  on  and  read  and  touched  another. 
"Lost  at  sea,"  that  one  said,  and  under  the  next  slabs 
slept  "Deliverance"  and  "Experience,"  "Mercy," 
and  "Thankful."  What  queer  names  people  had  in 
those  early  days !  And  what  strange  pictures  they 
etched  in  the  stone  of  those  old  gray  slabs — urns  and 
angels  and  weeping  willows  ! 

She  signaled  the  tenth  and  last.  Richard  won- 
dered why  she  did  not  turn  and  come  back.  At  the 
highest  point  of  the  hill  she  stood  as  if  transfixed,  a 
slim  little  silhouette  against  the  darkening  sky,  her 


In  the  Footsteps  of  Pirates  59 

hands  clasped  in  amazement.  Suddenly  she  turned 
and  came  tearing  down  the  hill,  floundering  through 
sand,  falling  and  picking  herself  up,  only  to  flounder 
and  fall  again,  finally  rolling  down  the  last  few  yards 
of  the  embankment. 

"What  scared  you?"  asked  Richard,  his  eyes  big 
with  excitement  as  he  watched  what  seemed  to  be 
her  terrified  exit.  "What  did  you  see?"  But  she 
would  not  speak  until  she  had  squeezed  between  the 
palings  and  stood  beside  him.  Then  she  told  him 
in  an  impressive  whisper,  glancing  furtively  over  her 
shoulder : 

"There's  a  whole  row  of  tombstones  up  there 
with  skulls  and  cross-bones  on  them!  They  must 
be  pirate  graves!" 

Her  mysterious  air  was  so  contagious  that  he  an- 
swered in  a  whisper,  and  in  a  moment  each  was 
convinced  by  the  other's  mere  manner  that  their  sus- 
picion was  true.  Presently  Georgina  spoke  in  her 
natural  voice. 

"You  go  up  and  look  at  them." 

"Naw,  I'll  take  your  word  for  it,"  he  answered 
in  a  patronizing  tone.  "Besides,  there  isn't  time 
now.  It's  getting  too  dark.  They'll  be  expecting  me 
home  to  supper." 

Georgina  glanced  about  her.  The  clouds  settling 
heavily  made  it  seem  later  than  it  really  was.  She 
had  a  guilty  feeling  that  Barby  was  worrying  about 
her  long  absence,  maybe  imagining  that  something 


60  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

had  happened  to  The  Betsey.  She  started  home- 
ward, half  running,  but  her  pace  slackened  as  Rich- 
ard, hurrying  along  beside  her,  began  to  plan  what 
they  would  do  with  their  treasure  when  they  found 
it. 

"There's  sure  to  be  piles  of  buried  gold  around 
here,"  he  said.  "Those  pirate  graves  prove  that  a 
lot  of  'em  lived  here  once.  Let's  buy  a  moving  pic- 
ture show  first." 

Georgina's  £ace  grew  radiant  at  this  tacit  admis- 
sion of  herself  into  partnership. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  assented  joyfully.  "And  then  we 
can  have  moving  pictures  made  of  us  doing  all  sorts 
of  things.  Won't  it  be  fun  to  sit  back  and  watch 
ourselves  and  see  how  we  look  doing  'em?" 

"Say!  that's  great,"  he  exclaimed.  "Allthe  kids 
in  town  will  want  to  be  in  the  pictures,  too,  but  we'll 
have  the  say-so,  and  only  those  who  do  exactly  to  suit 
us  can  have  a  chance  of  getting  in." 

"But  the  more  we  let  in  the  more  money  we'd 
make  in  the  show,"  was  Georgina's  shrewd  answer. 
"Everybody  will  want  to  see  what  their  child  looks 
like  in  the  movies,  so,  of  course,  that'll  make  people 
come  to  our  show  instead  of  the  other  ones." 

"Say,"  was  the  admiring  reply.  "You're  a  part- 
ner worth  having.  You've  got  a  head." 

Such  praise  was  the  sweetest  incense  to  Georgina. 
She  burned  to  call  forth  more. 


In  the  Footsteps  of  Pirates  6l 

"Oh,  I  can  think  of  lots  of  things  when  once  I 
get  started,"  she  assured  him  with  a  grand  air. 

As  they  ran  along  Richard  glanced  several  times 
at  the  head  from  which  had  come  such  valuable  sug- 
gestions. There  was  a  gleam  of  gold  in  the  brown 
curls  which  bobbed  over  her  shoulders.  He  liked 
it.  He  hadn't  noticed  before  that  her  hair  was 
pretty. 

There  was  a  gleam  of  gold,  also,  in  the  thoughts 
of  each.  They  could  fairly  see  the  nuggets  they 
were  soon  to  unearth,  and  their  imaginations,  each 
fired  by  the  other,  shoveled  out  the  coin  which  the 
picture  show  was  to  yield  them,  in  the  same  way  that 
the  fisherman  had  shoveled  the  shining  mackerel  into 
the  boat.  They  had  not  attempted  to  count  them, 
simply  measured  them  by  the  barrelful. 

"Don't  tell  anybody,"  Richard  counseled  her  as 
they  parted  at  the  Green  Stairs.  "Cross  your  heart 
and  body  you  won't  tell  a  soul.  We  want  to  surprise 
'em." 

Georgina  gave  the  required  sign  and  promise,  as 
gravely  as  if  it  were  an  oath. 

From  the  front  porch  Richard's  father  and  cousin, 
James  Milford,  watched  him  climb  slowly  up  the 
Green  Stairs. 

"Dicky  looks  as  if  the  affairs  of  the  nation  were 
on  his  shoulders,"  observed  Cousin  James.  "Pity  he 
doesn't  realize  these  are  his  care-free  days." 


62  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"They're  not,"  answered  the  elder  Richard. 
"They're  the  most  deadly  serious  ones  he'll  ever 
have.  I  don't  know  what  he's  got  on  his  mind  now, 
but  whatever  it  is  I'll  wager  it  is  more  important 
business  than  that  deal  you're  trying  to  pull  off  with 
the  Cold  Storage  people." 


CHAPTER   VI 

SPEND-THE-DAY   GUESTS 

was  a  storm  that  night  and  next  day  a 
•*•  heavy  fog  dropped  down  like  a  thick  white  veil 
over  town  and  sea.  It  was  so  cold  that  Jeremy 
lighted  a  fire,  not  only  in  the  living  room  but  in  the 
guest  chamber  across  the  hall. 

A  week  earlier  Tippy  had  announced,  "It'll  never 
do  to  let  Cousin  Mehitable  Huntingdon  go  back  to 
Hyannis  without  having  broken  bread  with  us.  She'd 
talk  about  it  to  the  end  of  her  days,  if  we  were  the 
only  relations  in  town  who  failed  to  ask  her  in  to  a 
meal,  during  her  fortnight's  visit.  And,  of  course, 
if  we  ask  her,  all  the  family  she's  staying  with  ought 
to  be  invited,  and  we've  never  had  the  new  minister 
and  his  wife  here  to  eat.  Might  as  well  do  it  all  up 
at  once  while  we're  about  it." 

Spend-the-day  guests  were  rare  in  Georgina's  ex- 
perience. The  grand  preparations  for  their  enter- 
tainment which  went  on  that  morning  put  the  new 
partnership  and  the  treasure-quest  far  into  the  back- 
ground. She  forgot  it  entirely  while  the  dining-room 
table,  stretched  to  its  limit,  was  being  set  with  the 
best  china  and  silver  as  if  for  a  Thanksgiving  feast. 

63 


64  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Mrs.  Fayal,  the  mother  of  Manuel  and  Joseph  and 
Rosa,  came  over  to  help  in  the  kitchen,  and  Tippy 
whisked  around  so  fast  that  Georgina,  tagging  after, 
was  continually  meeting  her  coming  back. 

Georgina  was  following  to  ask  questions  about  the 
expected  guests.  She  liked  the  gruesome  sound  of 
that  term  "blood  relations"  as  Tippy  used  it,  and 
wanted  to  know  all  about  this  recently  discovered 
uin-law,"  the  widow  of  her  grandfather's  cousin, 
Thomas  Huntingdon.  Barby  could  not  tell  her  and 
Mrs.  Triplett,  too  busy  to  be  bothered,  set  her  down 
to  turn  the  leaves  of  the  family  album.  But  the 
photograph  of  Cousin  Mehitable  had  been  taken 
when  she  was  a  boarding-school  miss  in  a  disfiguring 
hat  and  basque,  and  bore  little  resemblance  to  the 
imposing  personage  who  headed  the  procession  of 
visitors,  arriving  promptly  at  eleven  o'clock. 

When  Cousin  Mehitable  came  into  the  room  in  her 
widow's  bonnet  with  the  long  black  veil  hanging 
down  behind,  she  seemed  to  fill  the  place  as  the 
massive  black  walnut  wardrobe  upstairs  filled  the  al- 
cove. She  lifted  her  eyeglasses  from  the  hook  on  her 
dress  to  her  hooked  nose  to  look  at  Georgina  before 
she  kissed  her.  Under  that  gaze  the  child  felt  as 
awed  as  if  the  big  wardrobe  had  bent  over  and  put 
a  wooden  kiss  on  her  forehead  and  said  in  a  deep, 
whispery  sort  of  voice,  "So  this  is  the  Judge's  grand- 
daughter. How  do  you  do,  my  dear?" 

All  the  guests  were  middle  aged  and  most  of  them 


Spend-the-Day  Guests  65 

portly.  There  were  so  many  that  they  filled  all  the 
chairs  and  the  long  claw-foot  sofa  besides.  Geor- 
gina  sat  on  a  foot-stool,  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap 
until  the  others  took  out  their  knitting  and  embroid- 
ery. Then  she  ran  to  get  the  napkin  she  was  hem- 
ming. The  husbands  who  had  been  invited  did  not 
arrive  until  time  to  sit  down  to  dinner  and  they  left 
immediately  after  the  feast. 

Georgina  wished  that  everybody  would  keep  still 
and  let  one  guest  at  a  time  do  the  talking.  After  the 
first  few  minutes  of  general  conversation  the  circle 
broke  into  little  groups,  and  it  wasn't  possible  to  fol- 
low the  thread  of  the  story  in  more  than  one.  Each 
group  kept  bringing  to  light  some  bit  of  family  his- 
tory that  she  wanted  to  hear  or  some  old  family  joke 
which  they  laughed  over  as  if  it  were  the  funniest 
thing  that  ever  happened.  It  was  tantalizing  not  to 
be  able  to  hear  them  all.  It  made  her  think  of  times 
when  she  rummaged  through  the  chests  in  the  attic, 
pulling  out  fascinating  old  garments  and  holding 
them  up  for  Tippy  to  supply  their  history.  But  this 
was  as  bad  as  opening  all  the  chests  at  once.  While 
she  was  busy  with  one  she  was  missing  all  that  was 
being  hauled  out  to  the  light  of  day  from  the  others. 

Several  times  she  moved  her  foot-stool  from  one 
group  to  another,  drawn  by  some  sentence  such  as, 
"Well,  she  certainly  was  the  prettiest  bride  I  ever 
laid  my  two  eyes  on,  but  not  many  of  us  would  want 
to  stand  in  her  shoes  now."  Or  from  across  the 


66  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

room,  "They  do  say  it  was  what  happened  the  night 
of  the  wreck  that  unbalanced  his  mind,  but  I've  al- 
ways thought  it  was  having  things  go  at  sixes  and 
sevens  at  home  as  they  did." 

Georgina  would  have  settled  herself  permanently 
near  Cousin  Mehitable,  she  being  the  most  dramatic 
and  voluble  of  them  all,  but  she  had  a  tantalizing 
way  of  lowering  her  voice  at  the  most  interesting 
part,  and  whispering  the  last  sentence  behind  her 
hand.  Georgina  was  nearly  consumed  with  curiosity 
each  time  that  happened,  and  fairly  ached  to  know 
these  whispered  revelations. 

It  was  an  entrancing  day — the  dinner  so  good,  the 
ancient  jokes  passing  around  the  table  all  so  new  and 
witty  to  Georgina,  hearing  them  now  for  the  first 
time.  She  wished  that  a  storm  would  come  up  to  keep 
everybody  at  the  house  overnight  and  thus  prolong 
the  festal  feeling.  She  liked  this  "Company"  at- 
mosphere in  which  everyone  seemed  to  grow  expan- 
sive of  soul  and  gracious  of  speech.  She  loved  every 
relative  she  had  to  the  remotest  uin-law." 

Her  heart  swelled  with  a  great  thankfulness  to 
think  that  she  was  not  an  orphan.  Had  she  been  one 
there  would  have  been  no  one  to  remark  that  her  eyes 
were  exactly  like  Justin's  and  she  carried  herself  like 
a  Huntingdon,  but  that  she  must  have  inherited  her 
smile  from  the  other  side  of  the  house.  Barbara  had 
that  same  smile  and  winning  way  with  her.  It  was 
pleasant  to  be  discussed  when  only  pleasant  things 


Spend-the-Day  Guests  67 

were  said,  and  to  have  her  neat  stitches  exclaimed 
over  and  praised  as  they  were  passed  around. 

She  thought  about  it  again  after  dinner,  and  felt  so 
sorry  for  children  who  were  orphans,  that  she  de- 
cided to  spend  a  large  part  of  her  share  of  the  buried 
treasure  in  making  them  happy.  She  was  sure  that 
Richard  would  give  part  of  his  share,  too,  when  he 
found  it,  and  when  the  picture  show  which  they  were 
going  to  buy  was  in  good  running  order,  they  would 
make  it  a  rule  that  orphans  should  always  be  let  in 
free. 

She  came  back  from  this  pleasant  day-dream  to 
hear  Cousin  Mehitable  saying,  "Speaking  of  thieves, 
does  anyone  know  what  ever  became  of  poor  Dan 
Darcy?" 

Nobody  knew,  and  they  all  shook  their  heads  and 
said  that  it  was  a  pity  that  he  had  turned  out  so 
badly.  It  was  hard  to  believe  it  of  him  when  he 
had  always  been  such  a  kind,  pleasant-spoken  boy, 
just  like  his  father;  and  if  ever  there  was  an  honest 
soul  in  the  whole  round  world  it  was  the  old  Town- 
crier. 

At  that  Georgina  gave  such  a  start  that  she  ran 
her  needle  into  her  thumb,  and  a  tiny  drop  of  blood 
spurted  out.  She  did  not  know  that  Uncle  Darcy 
had  a  son.  She  had  never  heard  his  name  mentioned 
before.  She  had  been  at  his  house  many  a  time,  and 
there  never  was  anyone  there  besides  himself  except 
his  wife,  "Aunt  Elspeth"  (who  was  so  old  and  feeble 


68  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

that  she  stayed  in  bed  most  of  the  time),  and  the 
three  cats,  "John  Darcy  and  Mary  Darcy  and  old 
Yellownose."  That's  the  way  the  old  man  always 
spoke  of  them.  He  called  them  his  family. 

Georgina  was  glad  that  the  minister's  wife  was  a 
newcomer  in  the  town  and  asked  to  have  it  explained. 
Everybody  contributed  a  scrap  of  the  story,  for  all 
side  conversations  stopped  at  the  mention  of  Dan 
Darcy's  name,  and  the  interest  of  the  whole  room 
centered  on  him. 

It  was  years  ago,  when  he  was  not  more  than 
eighteen  that  it  happened.  He  was  a  happy-go-lucky 
sort  of  fellow  who  couldn't  be  kept  down  to  steady 
work  such  as  a  job  in  the  bank  or  a  store.  He  was 
always  off  a-fishing  or  on  the  water,  but  everybody 
liked  him  and  said  he'd  settle  down  when  he  was  a 
bit  older.  He  had  a  friend  much  like  himself,  only 
a  little  older.  Emmett  Potter  was  his  name.  There 
was  a  regular  David  and  Jonathan  friendship  be- 
tween those  two.  They  were  hand-in-glove  in  every- 
thing till  Dan  went  wrong.  Both  even  liked  the  same 
girl,  Belle  Triplett. 

Here  Georgina's  needle  gave  her  another  jab.  She 
laid  down  her  hemming  to  listen.  This  was  bringing 
the  story  close  home,  for  Belle  Triplett  was  Tippy's 
niece,  or  rather  her  husband's  niece.  While  that  did 
not  make  Belle  one  of  the  Huntingdon  family,  Geor- 
gina had  always  looked  upon  her  as  such.  She  visited 
at  the  house  oftener  than  anyone  else. 


Spend-the-Day  Guests  69 

Nobody  in  the  room  came  right  out  and  said  what 
it  was  that  Dan  had  done,  but  by  putting  the  scraps 
together  Georgina  discovered  presently  that  the 
trouble  was  about  some  stolen  money.  Lots  of  peo- 
ple wouldn't  believe  that  he  was  guilty  at  first,  but 
so  many  things  pointed  his  way  that  finally  they  had 
to.  The  case  was  about  to  be  brought  to  trial  when 
one  night  Dan  suddenly  disappeared  as  if  the  sea  had 
swallowed  him,  and  nothing  had  ever  been  heard 
from  him  since.  Judge  Huntingdon  said  it  was  a 
pity,  for  even  if  he  was  guilty  he  thought  he  could 
have  got  him  off,  there  being  nothing  but  circum- 
stantial evidence. 

Well,  it  nearly  killed  his  father  and  mother  and 
Emmett  Potter,  too. 

It  came  out  then  that  Emmett  was  engaged  to 
Belle.  For  nearly  a  year  he  grieved  about  Dan's 
disappearance.  Seems  he  took  it  to  heart  so  that 
he  couldn't  bear  to  do  any  of  the  things  they'd  al- 
ways done  together  or  go  to  the  old  places.  Belle 
had  her  wedding  dress  made  and  thought  if  she  could 
once  get  him  down  to  Truro  to  live,  he'd  brace  up 
and  get  over  it. 

They  had  settled  on  the  day,  when  one  wild, 
stormy  night  word  came  that  a  vessel  was  pounding 
itself  to  pieces  off  Peaked  Hill  Bar,  and  the  life- 
saving  crew  was  starting  to  the  rescue.  Emmett  lit 
out  to  see  it,  and  when  something  happened  to  the 
breeches  buoy  so  they  couldn't  use  it,  he  was  the  first 


70  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

to  answer  when  the  call  came  for  volunteers  to  man 
a  boat  to  put  out  to  them.  He  would  have  had  a 
medal  if  he'd  lived  to  wear  it,  for  he  saved  five  lives 
that  night.  But  he  lost  his  own  the  last  time  he 
climbed  up  on  the  vessel.  Nobody  knew  whether  it 
was  a  rope  gave  way  or  whether  his  fingers  were  so 
nearly  frozen  he  couldn't  hold  on,  but  he  dropped 
into  that  raging  sea,  and  his  body  was  washed  up 
on  the  beach  next  day. 

Georgina  listened,  horrified. 

"And  Belle  with  her  wedding  dress  all  ready," 
said  Cousin  Mehitable  with  a  husky  sigh. 

"What  became  of  her?"  asked  the  minister's  wife. 

"Oh,  she's  still  living  here  in  town,  but  it  blighted 
her  whole  life  in  a  way,  although  she  was  just  in  her 
teens  when  it  happened.  It  helped  her  to  bear  up, 
knowing  he'd  died  such  a  hero.  Some  of  the  town 
people  put  up  a  tombstone  to  his  memory,  with  a 
beautiful  inscription  on  it  that  the  summer  people 
go  to  see,  almost  as  much  as  the  landing  place  of  the 
Pilgrims.  She'll  be  true  to  his  memory  always,  and 
it's  something  beautiful  to  see  her  devotion  to  Em- 
mett's  father.  She  calls  him  "Father"  Potter,  and 
is  always  doing  things  for  him.  He's  that  old  net- 
mender  who  lives  alone  out  on  the  edge  of  town 
near  the  cranberry  bogs." 

Cousin  Mehitable  took  up  the  tale : 

"I'll  never  forget  if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred,  what 
I  saw  on  my  way  home  the  night  after  Emmett  was 


Spend- the-Day  Guests  71 

drowned.  I  was  living  here  then,  you  know.  I  was 
passing  through  Fishburn  Court,  and  I  thought  I'd 
go  in  and  speak  a  word  to  Mr.  Darcy,  knowing  how 
fond  he'd  always  been  of  Emmett  on  account  of  Dan 
and  him  being  such  friends.  I  went  across  that  sandy 
place  they  call  the  Court,  to  the  row  of  cottages  at 
the  end.  But  I  didn't  see  anything  until  I  had  opened 
the  Darcy's  gate  and  stepped  into  the  yard.  The 
house  sits  sideways  to  the  Court,  you  know. 

"The  yellow  blind  was  pulled  down  over  the  front 
window,  but  the  lamp  threw  a  shadow  on  it,  plain  as 
a  photograph.  It  was  the  shadow  of  the  old  man, 
sitting  there  with  his  arms  flung  out  across  the  table, 
and  his  head  bowed  down  on  them.  I  was  just  hesi- 
tating, whether  to  knock  or  to  slip  away,  when  I 
heard  him  groan,  and  sort  of  cry  out,  "Oh,  my 
Danny!  My  Danny!  If  only  you  could  have  gone 
that  way." 

Barbara,  hearing  a  muffled  sob  behind  her,  turned 
to  see  the  tears  running  down  Georgina's  face.  The 
next  instant  she  was  up,  and  with  her  arms  around 
the  child,  was  gently  pushing  her  ahead  of  her  out 
of  the  room,  into  the  hall.  With  the  door  shut 
behind  her  she  said  soothingly: 

"Barby  didn't  know  they  were  going  to  tell  such 
unhappy  stories,  darling.  I  shouldn't  have  let  you 
stay." 

"But  I  want  to  know,"  sobbed  Georgina.  "When 
people  you  love  have  trouble  you  ought  to  know,  so's 


72  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

to  be  kinder  to  them.  Oh,  Barby,  I'm  so  sorry  I 
ever  was  saucy  to  him.  And  I  wish  I  hadn't  teased 
his  cats.  I  tied  paper  bags  on  all  of  John  Darcy 
and  Mary  Darcy's  paws,  and  he  said  I  made  old 
Y-yellownose  n-nervous,  tickling  his  ears " 

Barbara  stopped  the  sobbing  confessions  with  a 
kiss  and  took  Georgina's  jacket  from  the  hat- 
rack. 

"Here,"  she  said.  "It's  bad  for  you  to  sit  in  the 
house  all  day  and  listen  to  grown  people  talk.  Slip 
into  this  and  run  outdoors  with  your  skipping  rope 
a  while.  Uncle  Darcy  has  had  very  great  trouble, 
but  he's  learned  to  bear  it  like  a  hero,  and  nothing 
would  make  him  grieve  more  than  to  know  that  any 
shadow  of  his  sorrow  was  making  you  unhappy.  The 
way  for  you  to  help  him  most  is  to  be  as  bright  and 
jolly  as  you  can,  and  to  tease  his  old  cats  once  in  a 
while." 

Georgina  looked  up  through  her  tears,  her  dimples 
all  showing,  and  threw  her  arms  around  her  ador- 
ingly. 

"What  a  funny  mother  you  are,  Barby.  Not  a  bit 
like  the  ones  in  books." 

A  cold  wind  was  blowing  the  fog  away.  She  raced 
up  and  down  the  beach  for  a  long  time,  and  when 
she  came  back  it  was  with  red  cheeks  and  ruffled 
curls.  Having  left  the  company  in  tears  she  did 
not  like  to  venture  back  for  fear  of  the  remarks 


Spend-the-Day  Guests  73 

which  might  be  made.  So  she  crossed  the  hall  and 
stood  in  the  door  of  the  guest  chamber,  considering 
what  to  do  next.  Its  usual  chill  repellance  had  been 
changed  into  something  inviting  by  the  wood  fire  on 
the  hearth,  and  on  the  bed  where  the  guests  had 
deposited  their  wraps  lay  an  array  of  millinery  which 
drew  her  irresistibly. 

It  was  a  huge  four-poster  bed  which  one  could 
mount  only  by  the  aid  of  a  set  of  bedside  steps,  and  so 
high  that  the  valance,  draped  around  it  like  a  skirt, 
would  have  reached  from  her  neck  to  her  heels  had 
it  been  draped  on  her.  It  was  a  chintz  valance 
with  birds  of  paradise  patterned  on  its  pink  back- 
ground, and  there  was  pink  silk  quilled  into  the  quaint 
tester  overhead,  reminding  her  of  old  Jeremy's 
favorite  quill  dahlias. 

Usually  when  she  went  into  this  room  which  was 
seldom  opened,  she  mounted  the  steps  to  gaze  up 
at  that  fascinating  pink  loveliness.  Also  she  walked 
around  the  valance,  counting  its  birds  of  paradise. 
She  did  not  do  so  to-day.  She  knew  from  many 
previous  countings  that  there  were  exactly  eighty- 
seven  and  a  half  of  those  birds.  The  joining  seam 
cut  off  all  but  the  magnificent  tail  of  what  would  have 
been  the  eighty-eighth. 

Mounting  the  steps  she  leaned  over,  careful  not 
to  touch  the  crocheted  counterpane,  which  Tippy 
always  treated  as  if  it  were  something  sacred,  and 


74  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

looked  at  the  hats  spread  out  upon  it.  Then  she  laid 
daring  fingers  on  Cousin  Mehitable's  bonnet.  It  was 
a  temptation  to  know  what  she  would  look  like  if 
she  should  grow  up  to  be  a  widow  and  have  to  wear 
an  imposing  head-gear  like  that  with  a  white  ruche 
in  front  and  a  long  black  veil  floating  down  behind. 
The  next  instant  she  was  tying  the  strings  under  her 
chin. 

It  made  her  look  like  such  an  odd  little  dwarf  of 
a  woman  that  she  stuck  out  her  tongue  at  her  re- 
flection in  the  mirror.  The  grimace  was  so  comical, 
framed  by  the  stately  bonnet,  that  Georgina  was 
delighted.  She  twisted  her  face  another  way  and 
was  still  more  amused  at  results.  Wholly  forget- 
ful of  the  fact  that  it  was  a  mourning  bonnet,  she 
went  on  making  faces  at  herself  until  the  sound  of 
voices  suddenly  growing  louder,  told  her  that  the 
door  across  the  hall  had  opened.  Someone  was  com- 
ing across. 

There  was  no  time  to  take  off  the  bonnet. 
With  a  frightened  gasp  she  dived  under  the  bed, 
with  it  still  on,  her  heels  disappearing  just  as  some- 
one came  into  the  room.  The  bed  was  so  high  she 
could  easily  sit  upright  under  it,  but  she  was  so 
afraid  that  a  cough  or  a  sneeze  might  betray  her, 
that  she  drew  up  her  knees  and  sat  with  her  face 
pressed  against  them  hard.  The  long  veil  shrouded 
her  shoulders.  She  felt  that  she  would  surely  die  if 


Spend-the-Day  Guests  jc 

anyone  should  notice  that  the  bonnet  was  gone,  or 
happen  to  lift  the  valance  and  find  her  sitting  there 
with  it  on  her  head.  Then  she  forgot  her  fear  in 
listening  to  what  Cousin  Mehitable  was  saying. 


CHAPTER   VII 

"THE  TISHBITE" 

/COUSIN  MEHITABLE  was  speaking  to  Mrs. 
^-^  Triplett,  who  seemed  to  be  searching  through 
bureau  drawers  for  something.  Georgina  could  tell 
what  she  was  doing  from  the  sounds  which  reached 
her.  These  drawers  always  stuck,  and  had  to  be 
jerked  violently  until  the  mirror  rattled. 

"Oh,  don't  bother  about  it,  Maria.  I  just  made 
an  excuse  of  wanting  to  see  it,  because  I  knew  you 
always  kept  it  in  here,  and  I  wanted  to  get  you  off 
by  yourself  for  a  minute's  talk  with  you  alone.  Since 
I've  been  in  town  I've  heard  so  much  about  Justin 
and  the  way  he  is  doing  that  I  wanted  to  ask  some- 
body who  knew  and  who  could  tell  me  the  straight 
of  it.  What's  this  about  his  leaving  the  service  and 
going  junketing  off  to  the  interior  of  China  on  some 
mission  of  his  own?  Jane  tells  me  he  got  a  year's 
leave  of  absence  from  the  Navy  just  to  study  up 
some  outlandish  disease  that  attacks  the  sailors  in 
foreign  ports.  She  says  why  should  he  take  a  whole 
year  out  of  the  best  part  of  his  life  to  poke  around 
the  huts  of  dirty  heathen  to  find  out  the  kind  of  mi- 
crobe that's  eating  'em?  He'd  ought  to  think  of 

76 


"The  Tishbite"  77 

Barbara  and  what's  eating  her  heart  out.  I've  taken 
a  great  fancy  to  that  girl,  and  I'd  like  to  give  Justin 
a  piece  of  my  mind.  It  probably  wouldn't  do  a  bit 
of  good  though.  He  always  was  peculiar." 

Georgina  could  hear  only  a  few  words  of  the 
answer  because  Tippy  had  her  head  in  the  closet  now, 
reaching  for  the  box  on  the  top  shelf.  She  stopped 
her  search  as  soon  as  Cousin  Mehitable  said  that,  and 
the  two  of  them  went  over  to  the  fire  and  talked  in 
low  tones  for  a  few  minutes,  leaning  against  the 
mantel.  Georgina  heard  a  word  now  and  then.  Sev- 
eral times  it  was  her  own  name.  Finally,  in  a  louder 
tone  Cousin  Mehitable  said: 

"Well,  I  wanted  to  know,  and  I  was  sure  you 
could  tell  me  if  anyone  could." 

They  went  back  across  the  hall  to  the  other  guests. 
The  instant  they  were  gone  Georgina  crawled  out 
from  under  the  bed  with  the  big  bonnet  cocked  over 
one  eye.  Then  she  scudded  down  the  hall  and  up  the 
back  stairs.  She  knew  the  company  would  be  going 
soon,  and  she  would  be  expected  to  bid  them  good- 
bye if  she  were  there.  She  didn't  want  Cousin 
Mehitable  to  kiss  her  again.  She  didn't  like  her 
any  more  since  she  had  called  her  father  "peculiar." 

She  wandered  aimlessly  about  for  a  few  minutes, 
then  pushed  the  door  open  into  Mrs.  Triplett's  room. 
It  was  warm  and  cozy  in  there  for  a  small  fire  still 
burned  in  the  little  drum  stove.  She  opened  the  front 
damper  to  make  it  burn  faster,  and  the  light  shone 


jS  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

out  in  four  long  rays  which  made  a  flickering  in  the 
room.  She  sat  down  on  the  floor  in  front  of  it  and 
began  to  wonder. 

"What  did  Cousin  Mehitable  mean  by  something 
eating  Barby's  heart  out?"  Did  people  die  of  it? 
She  had  read  of  the  Spartan  youth  who  let  the  fox 
gnaw  his  vitals  under  his  cloak  and  never  showed, 
even  by  the  twitching  of  a  muscle,  that  he  was  in 
pain.  Of  course,  she  knew  that  no  live  thing  was 
tearing  at  her  mother's  heart,  but  what  if  something 
that  she  couldn't  understand  was  hurting  her  darling 
Barby  night  and  day  and  she  was  bravely  hiding  it 
from  the  world  like  the  Spartan  youth? 

Did  all  grown  people  have  troubles?  It  had 
seemed  such  a  happy  world  until  to-day,  and  now  all 
at  once  she  had  heard  about  Dan  Darcy  and  Belle 
Triplett.  Nearly  everyone  whom  the  guests  talked 
about  had  borne  some  unhappiness,  and  even  her  own 
father  was  "peculiar."  She  wished  she  hadn't  found 
out  all  these  things.  A  great  weight  seemed  to  settle 
down  upon  her. 

Thinking  of  Barbara  in  the  light  of  what  she  had 
just  learned  she  recalled  that  she  often  looked  sorry 
and  disappointed,  especially  after  the  postman  had 
come  and  gone  without  leaving  a  letter.  Only  this 
morning  Tippy  had  said — could  it  be  she  thought 
something  was  wrong  and  was  trying  to  comfort  her? 

"Justin  always  was  a  poor  hand  for  writing  let- 
ters. Many  a  time  I've  heard  the  Judge  scolding 


'The  Tishbite"  79 

and  stewing  around  because  he  hadn't  heard  from 
him  when  he  was  away  at  school.  Letter  writing 
came  so  easy  to  the  Judge  he  couldn't  understand  why 
Justin  shirked  it  so." 

Then  Georgina  thought  of  Belle  in  the  light  of 
what  she  had  just  learned.  Belle  had  carried  her 
around  in  her  arms  when  she  was  first  brought  to 
live  in  this  old  gray  house  by  the  sea.  She  had  made 
a  companion  of  her  whenever  she  came  to  visit  her 
Aunt  Maria,  and  Georgina  had  admired  her  because 
she  was  so  pretty  and  blonde  and  gentle,  and  enjoyed 
her  because  she  was  always  so  willing  to  do  whatever 
Georgina  wished.  And  now  to  think  that  instead  of 
being  the  like-everybody-else  kind  of  a  young  lady 
she  seemed,  she  was  like  a  heroine  in  a  book  who 
had  lived  through  trouble  which  would  "blight  her 
whole  life." 

Sitting  there  on  the  floor  with  her  knees  drawn  up 
and  her  chin  resting  on  them,  Georgina  looked  into 
the  fire  through  the  slits  of  the  damper  and  thought 
and  thought.  Then  she  looked  out  through  the  little 
square  window-panes  across  the  wind-swept  dunes. 
It  did  not  seem  like  summer  with  the  sky  all  over- 
cast with  clouds.  It  was  more  like  the  end  of  a  day 
in  the  early  autumn.  Life  seemed  overcast,  too. 

Presently  through  a  rift  in  the  sky  an  early  star 
stole  out,  and  she  made  a  wish  on  it.  That  was  one 
of  the  things  Belle  had  taught  her.  She  started  to 
wish  that  Barby  might  be  happy.  But  before  the 


8o  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

whispered  verse  had  entirely  passed  her  lips  she 
stopped  to  amend  it,  adding  Uncle  Darcy's  name  and 
Belle's.  Then  she  stopped  again,  overcome  by  the 
knowledge  of  all  the  woe  in  the  world,  and  gathering 
all  the  universe  into  her  generous  little  heart  she 
exclaimed  earnestly: 

"I  wish  everybody  in  the  world  could  be  happy." 

Having  made  the  wish,  fervently,  almost  fiercely, 
in  her  intense  desire  to  set  things  right,  she  scrambled 
to  her  feet.  There  was  another  thing  that  Belle 
had  told  her  which  she  must  do. 

"If  you  open  the  Bible  and  it  chances  to  be  at  a 
chapter  beginning  with  the  words,  'It  came  to  pass,' 
the  wish  will  come  true  without  fail." 

Taking  Tippy's  Bible  from  the  stand  beside  the 
bed,  she  opened  it  at  random,  then  carried  it  over  to 
the  stove  in  order  to  scan  the  pages  by  the  firelight 
streaming  through  the  damper.  The  book  opened 
at  First  Kings,  seventeenth  chapter.  She  held  it  di- 
rectly in  the  broad  rays  examining  the  pages  anx- 
iously. There  was  only  that  one  chapter  head  on 
either  page,  and  alas,  its  opening  words  were  not 
"it  came  to  pass."  What  she  read  with  a  sinking 
heart  was: 

"And  Elijah  the  Tishbite." 

Now  Georgina  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  what  a 
Tishbite  was,  but  it  sounded  as  if  it  were  something 
dreadful.  Somehow  it  is  a  thousand  times  worse  to 
be  scared  by  a  fear  which  is  not  understood  than  by 


'The  Tishbite"  81 

one  which  is  familiar.  Suddenly  she  felt  as  bewild- 
ered and  frightened  as  she  had  on  that  morning  long 
ago,  when  Jeremy's  teeth  went  flying  into  the  fire. 
The  happiness  of  her  whole  little  world  seemed  to  be 
going  to  pieces. 

Throwing  herself  across  the  foot  of  Tippy's  bed 
she  crawled  under  the  afghan  thrown  over  it,  even 
burrowing  her  head  beneath  it  in  order  to  shut  out 
the  dreadful  things  closing  down  on  her.  It  had 
puzzled  and  frightened  her  to  know  that  something 
was  eating  Barby's  heart  out,  even  in  a  figurative 
way,  and  now  the  word  "Tishbite"  filled  her  with  a 
vague  sense  of  helplessness  and  impending  disaster. 

Barbara,  coming  upstairs  to  hunt  her  after  the 
guests  were  gone,  found  her  sound  asleep  with  the 
afghan  still  over  her  head.  She  folded  it  gently  back 
from  the  flushed  face,  not  intending  to  waken  her, 
but  Georgina's  eyes  opened  and  after  a  bewildered 
stare  around  the  room  she  sat  up,  remembering.  She 
had  wakened  to  a  world  of  trouble.  Somehow  it  did 
not  seem  quite  so  bad  with  Barbara  standing  over 
her,  smiling.  When  she  went  downstairs  a  little 
later,  freshly  washed  and  brushed,  the  Tishbite  rolled 
cut  of  her  thoughts  as  a  fog  lifts  when  the  sun  shines. 

But  it  came  back  at  bedtime,  when  having  said 
her  prayers,  she  joined  her  voice  with  Barbara's  in 
the  hymn  that  had  been  her  earliest  lullaby.  It  was 
a  custom  never  omitted.  It  always  closed  the  day 
for  her: 


82  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Eternal  Father,  strong  to  save, 
Whose  arm  doth  bind  the  restless  wave, 
Oh,  hear  us  when  we  cry  to  thee 
For  those  in  peril  on  the  sea." 

As  they  sang  she  stole  an  anxious  glance  at  Bar- 
bara several  times.  Then  she  made  up  her  mind  that 
Cousin  Mehitable  was  mistaken.  If  her  father  were 
"peculiar,"  Barby  wouldn't  have  that  sweet  look  on 
her  face  when  she  sang  that  prayer  for  him.  If  he 
were  making  her  unhappy  she  wouldn't  be  singing  it 
at  all.  She  wouldn't  care  whether  he  was  protected 
or  not  "from  rock  and  tempest,  fire  and  foe." 

And  yet,  after  Barby  had  gone  downstairs  and 
the  sound  of  the  piano  came  softly  up  from  below — 
another  bedtime  custom,  Georgina  began  thinking 
again  about  those  whispering  voices  which  she  had 
heard  as  she  sat  under  the  bed,  behind  the  bird-of- 
paradise  valance.  More  than  ever  before  the  music 
suggested  someone  waiting  for  a  ship  which  never 
came  home,  or  fog  bells  on  a  lonely  shore. 

Nearly  a  week  went  by  before  Richard  made  his 
first  visit  to  the  old  gray  house  at  the  end  of  town. 
He  came  with  the  Towncrier,  carrying  his  bell,  and 
keeping  close  to  his  side  for  the  first  few  minutes. 
Then  he  found  the  place  far  more  interesting  than 
the  bungalow.  Georgina  took  him  all  over  it,  from 
the  garret  where  she  played  on  rainy  days  to  the 
seat  up  in  the  willow,  where  standing  in  its  highest 


,  'The  Tishbite"  ,83 

crotch  one  could  look  clear  across  the  Cape  to  the 
Atlantic.  They  made  several  plans  for  their  treas- 
ure-quest while  up  in  the  willow.  They  could  see  a 
place  off  towards  Wood  End  Lighthouse  which 
looked  like  one  of  the  pirate  places  Uncle  Darcy 
had  described  in  one  of  his  tales. 

Barby  had  lemonade  and  cake  waiting  for  them 
when  they  came  down,  and  when  she  talked  to  him 
it  wasn't  at  all  in  the  way  the  ladies  did  who  came 
to  see  his  Aunt  Letty,  as  if  they  were  talking  merely 
to  be  gracious  and  kind  to  a  strange  little  boy  in 
whom  they  had  no  interest.  Barby  gave  his  ear  a 
tweak  and  said  with  a  smile  that  made  him  feel  as  if 
they  had  known  each  other  always : 

"Oh,  the  good  times  I've  had  with  boys  just  your 
size.  I  always  played  with  my  brother  Eddy's 
friends.  Boys  make  such  good  chums.  I've  often 
thought  how  much  Georgina  misses  that  I  had." 

Presently  Georgina  took  him  out  to  the  see-saw, 
where  Captain  Kidd  persisted  in  riding  on  Richard's 
end  of  the  plank. 

"That's  exactly  the  way  my  Uncle  Eddy's  terrier 
used  to  do  back  in  Kentucky  when  I  visited  there  one 
summer,"  she  said,  after  the  plank  was  adjusted  so 
as  to  balance  them  properly.  "Only  he  barked  all 
the  time  he  was  riding.  But  he  was  fierce  because 
Uncle  Eddy  fed  him  gunpowder." 

"What  did  he  do  that  for?"  . 

"To  keep  him  from  being  gun-shy.     And  Uncle 


84  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Eddy  ate  some,  too,  one  time  when  he  was  little, 
because  the  colored  stable  boy  told  him  it  would  make 
him  game." 

"Did  it?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  that  did  or  not.  Some- 
thing did  though,  for  he's  the  gamest  man  I  know." 

Richard  considered  this  a  moment  and  then  said: 

"I  wonder  what  it  would  do  to  Captain  Kidd  if  I 
fed  him  some." 

"Let's  try  it!"  exclaimed  Georgina,  delighted  with 
the  suggestion.  "There's  some  hanging  up  in  the 
old  powder-horn  over  the  dining-room  mantel.  You 
have  to  give  it  to  'em  in  milk.  Wait  a  minute." 

Jumping  from  the  see-saw  after  giving  fair  warn- 
ing, she  ran  to  one  of  the  side  windows. 

"Barby,"  she  called.  "I'm  going  to  give  Captain 
Kidd  some  milk." 

Barbara  turned  from  her  conversation  with  Uncle 
Darcy  to  say: 

"Very  well,  if  you  can  get  it  yourself.  But  be 
careful  not  to  disturb  the  pans  that  haven't  been 
skimmed.  Tippy  wouldn't  like  it." 

"I  know  what  to  get  it  out  of,"  called  Georgina, 
"out  of  the  blue  pitcher." 

Richard  watched  while  she  opened  the  refrigerator 
door  and  poured  some  milk  into  a  saucer. 

"Carry  it  in  and  put  it  on  the  kitchen  table,"  she 
bade  him,  "while  I  get  the  powder." 

When  he  followed  her  into  the  dining-room  she 


"The  Tishbite"  85 

was  upon  a  chair,  reaching  for  the  old  powder  horn, 
which  hung  on  a  hook  under  the  firearm  that  had 
done  duty  in  the  battle  of  Lexington.  Richard 
wanted  to  get  his  hands  on  it,  and  was  glad  when 
she  could  not  pull  out  the  wooden  plug  which  stopped 
the  small  end  of  the  horn.  She  turned  it  over  to  him 
to  open.  He  peered  into  it,  then  shook  it. 

"There  isn't  more  than  a  spoonful  left  in  it,"  he 
said. 

"Well,  gunpowder  is  so  strong  you  don't  need 
much.  You  know  just  a  little  will  make  a  gun  go  off. 
It  mightn't  be  safe  to  feed  him  much.  Pour  some 
out  in  your  hand  and  drop  it  in  the  milk." 

Richard  slowly  poured  a  small  mound  out  into  the 
hollow  of  his  hand,  and  passed  the  horn  back  to  her, 
then  went  to  the  kitchen  whistling  for  Captain  Kidd. 
Not  all  of  the  powder  went  into  the  milk,  however. 
The  last  bit  he  swallowed  himself,  after  looking  at 
it  long  and  thoughtfully. 

At  the  same  moment,  Georgina,  before  putting 
back  the  plug,  paused,  looked  all  around,  and  poured 
out  a  few  grains  into  her  own  hand.  If  the  Tishbite 
was  going  to  do  anybody  any  harm,  it  would  be  well 
to  be  prepared.  She  had  just  hastily  swallowed  it 
and  was  hanging  the  horn  back  in  place,  when  Rich- 
ard returned. 

"He  lapped  up  the  last  drop  as  if  he  liked  it,"  he 
reported.  "Now  we'll  see  what  happens." 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE  TELEGRAM  THAT  TOOK  BARBY  AWAY 

'TpHE  painting  of  Richard's  portrait  interfered 
-*-  with  the  quest  for  buried  treasure  from  day  to 
day;  but  unbeknown  either  to  artist  or  model,  the 
dreams  of  that  quest  helped  in  the  fashioning  of  the 
picture.  In  the  preliminary  sittings  in  the  studio  at 
home  Richard's  father  found  it  necessary  always  to 
begin  with  some  exhortation  such  as : 

"Now,  Dicky,  this  has  got  to  be  more  than  just 
a  'Study  of  a  Boy's  Head.'  I  want  to  show  by  the 
expression  of  your  face  that  it  is  an  illustration  of 
that  poem,  'A  boy's  will  is  the  wind's  will,  and  the 
thoughts  of  youth  are  long,  long  thoughts.'  Chase 
that  Binney  Rogers  and  his  gang  out  of  your  mind 
for  a  while,  can't  you,  and  think  of  something  be- 
side shinny  and  the  hokey-pokey  man." 

So  far  the  portrait  was  satisfactory  in  that  it  was 
a  remarkably  good  likeness  of  an  unusually  good- 
looking  boy,  but  it  was  of  a  boy  who  seemed  to  be 
alertly  listening  for  such  things  as  Binney's  cat-call, 
signaling  him  from  the  alley.  Here  by  the  sea  there 
was  no  need  for  such  exhortations.  No  sooner  was 

86 


The  Telegram  That  Took  Barby  Away    87 

he  seated  before  the  easel  in  the  loft  which  served  as 
a  studio,  with  its  barn-like,  double  doors  thrown  open 
above  the  water,  than  the  rapt  expression  which  his 
father  coveted,  crept  into  his  dark  eyes.  They  grew 
big  and  dreamy,  following  the  white  sails  across  the 
harbor.  He  was  planning  the  secret  expedition  he 
and  Georgina  intended  to  undertake,  just  as  soon  as 
the  portrait  was  finished. 

There  were  many  preparations  to  make  for  it. 
They  would  have  to  secrete  tools  and  provisions ;  and 
in  a  book  from  which  Georgina  read  aloud  whenever 
there  was  opportunity,  were  descriptions  of  various 
rites  that  it  were  well  to  perform.  One  was  to  sac- 
rifice a  black  cock,  and  sprinkle  its  blood  upon  the 
spot  before  beginning  to  dig.  Richard  did  not  ques- 
tion why  this  should  be  done.  The  book  recom- 
mended it  as  a  practice  which  had  been  followed  by 
some  very  famous  treasure  hunters.  If  at  times  a 
certain  wide-awake  and  calculating  gleam  suddenly 
dispelled  the  dreaminess  of  expression  in  which  his 
father  was  exulting,  it  was  because  a  black  Orping- 
ton rooster  which  daily  strayed  from  a  nearby  cot- 
tage to  the  beach  below  the  studio  window,  chose  that 
moment  to  crow.  Richard  had  marked  that  black 
cock  for  the  sacrifice.  It  was  lordly  enough  to  bring 
success  upon  any  enterprise. 

In  the  meantime,  as  soon  as  his  duties  as  model 
were  over  each  morning,  he  was  out  of  the  studio 
with  a  whoop  and  up  the  beach  as  hard  as  he  could 


88  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

run  to  the  Huntingdon  house.  By  the  time  he 
reached  it  he  was  no  longer  the  artist's  only  son, 
hedged  about  with  many  limitations  which  belonged 
to  that  distinction.  He  was  "Dare-devil  Dick,  the 
Dread  Destroyer,"  and  Georgina  was  "Gory 
George,  the  Menace  of  the  Main." 

Together  they  commanded  a  brigantine  of  their 
own.  Passers-by  saw  only  an  old  sailboat  anchored 
at  the  deserted  and  rotting  wharf  up  nearest  the 
breakwater.  But  the  passers-by  who  saw  only  that 
failed  to  see  either  Dare-devil  Dick  or  Gory  George. 
They  saw,  instead,  two  children  whose  fierce  mus- 
tachios  were  the  streakings  of  a  burnt  match,  whose 
massive  hoop  ear-rings  were  the  brass  rings  from  a 
curtain  pole,  whose  faithful  following  of  the  acts 
of  Captain  Quelch  and  other  piratical  gentlemen  was 
only  the  mimicry  of  play. 

But  Barbara  knew  how  real  they  were,  from  the 
spotted  handkerchief  tied  around  the  "bunged  eye" 
of  Dare-devil  Dick,  under  his  evil-looking  slouch 
hat,  to  the  old  horse  pistol  buckled  to  his  belt.  Gory 
George  wore  the  same.  And  Barbara  knew  what 
serious  business  it  was  to  them,  even  more  serious 
than  the  affairs  of  eating  and  drinking. 

Tippy  scolded  when  she  found  that  her  half-pint 
bottles  which  she  kept  especially  for  cream  had  beeh* 
smuggled  away  in  the  hold  of  the  brigantine.  But 
without  bottles  how  could  one  give  a  realistic  touch 
to  the  singing  of  "Yo  ho,  and  the  rum  below"? 


The  Telegram  That  Took  Barby  Away    89 

And  Tippy  thought  it  was  heathenish  for  Barbara 
to  let  Georgina  dress  up  in  some  little  knickerbockers 
and  a  roundabout  which  had  been  stored  away  with 
other  clothes  worn  by  Justin  as  a  small  boy.  But 
her  disapproval  was  beyond  words  when  Barbara 
herself  appeared  at  the  back  door  one  morning,  so 
cleverly  disguised  as  a  gypsy,  that  Mrs.  Triplett 
grudgingly  handed  out  some  cold  biscuits  before  she 
discovered  the  imposition.  The  poor  she  was  glad 
to  feed,  but  she  had  no  use  for  an  impudent,  strolling 
gypsy. 

"Don't  be  cross,  Tippy,"  pleaded  Barbara,  laugh- 
ing till  the  tears  came.  "I  had  to  do  it.  I  can't  bear 
to  feel  that  Georgina  is  growing  away  from  me — 
that  she  is  satisfied  to  leave  me  out  of  her  games. 
Since  she's  so  taken  up  with  that  little  Richard  More- 
land  I  don't  seem  as  necessary  to  her  as  I  used  to 
be.  And  I  can't  bear  that,  Tippy,  when  I've  always 
been  first  in  everything  with  her.  She's  so  neces- 
sary to  me." 

Mrs.  Triplett  made  no  answer.  She  felt  that  she 
corldn't  do  justice  to  the  occasion.  She  doubted  if 
the  Pilgrim  monument  itself  could,  even  if  it  were 
to  stretch  itself  up  to  its  full  height  and  deliver  a 
lecture  on  the  dignity  of  motherhood.  She  wondered 
what  the  Mayflower  mothers  would  have  thought  if 
they  could  have  met  this  modern  one  on  the  beach, 
with  face  stained  brown,  playacting  that  she  was  a 
beggar  of  a  gypsy.  How  could  she  hope  to  be  one 


90  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

of  those  written  of  in  Proverbs — "Her  children  rise 
up  and  call  her  blessed.  Her  own  works  praise  her 
in  the  gates." 

Tippy  ate  her  dinner  alone  that  day,  glancing 
grimly  through  the  open  window  from  time  to  time 
to  the  sand  dunes  back  of  the  house,  where  an  old 
hag  of  a  gypsy  in  a  short  red  dress  with  a  gay  ban- 
danna knotted  over  her  head,  broiled  bacon  and 
boiled  corn  over  a  smoky  campfire;  and  two  swagger- 
ing villains  who  smelled  of  tar  and  codfish  (because 
of  the  old  net  which  half-way  filled  the  brigantine), 
sucked  the  very  cobs  when  the  corn  was  eaten  from 
them,  forever  registering  that  feast  high  above  all 
other  feasts  in  the  tablet  of  blessed  memories. 

The  interruption  to  all  this  came  as  unexpectedly 
as  a  clap  of  thunder  from  a  clear  sky.  A  messen- 
ger boy  on  a  wheel  whirled  up  to  the  front  gate  with 
a  telegram.  Tippy  signed  for  it,  not  wanting  the 
boy  to  see  Barbara  in  such  outlandish  dress,  then 
carried  it  out  to  the  picnickers.  She  held  it  under  her 
apron  until  she  reached  them.  Telegrams  always 
spelled  trouble  to  Mrs.  Triplett,  but  Barbara  took 
this  one  from  her  with  a  smiling  thank  you,  without 
rising  from  her  seat  on  the  sand.  Her  father  often 
telegraphed  instead  of  writing  when  away  on  his  va- 
cations, and  she  knew  he  was  up  at  a  lake  resort  in 
Michigan,  at  an  Editors'  Convention.  Telegrams 
had  always  been  pleasant  things  in  her  experience. 


But  as  she  tore  this  open  and  read  she  turned  pale 
even  under  her  brown  stain. 

"It's  papa,"  she  gasped.  "Hurt  in  an  automobile 
accident.  They  don't  say  how  bad — just  hurt.  And 
he  wants  me.  I  must  take  the  first  train." 

She  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Triplett  helplessly,  not  even 
making  an  effort  to  rise  from  the  sand,  she  was  so 
dazed  and  distressed  by  the  sudden  summons.  It 
was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  had  the  shock  of  bad 
news.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  been  called 
upon  to  act  for  herself  in  such  an  emergency,  and 
she  felt  perfectly  numb,  mind  and  body.  Tippy's 
voice  sounded  a  mile  away  when  she  said: 

"You  can  catch  the  boat.  It's  an  hour  till  the 
Dorothy  Bradford  starts  back  to  Boston." 

Still  Barbara  sat  limp  and  powerless,  as  one  sits  in 
a  nightmare. 

Georgina  gave  a  choking  gasp  as  two  awful  words 
rose  up  in  her  throat  and  stuck  there.  "The  Tish- 
bite"  Whatever  that  mysterious  horror  might  be, 
plainly  its  evil  workings  had  begun. 

"Tut!"  exclaimed  Tippy,  pulling  Barbara  to  her 
feet.  "Keep  your  head.  You'll  have  to  begin  scrub- 
bing that  brown  paint  off  your  face  if  you  expect  to 
reach  the  boat  on  time." 

Automatically  Georgina  responded  to  that  "tut" 
as  if  it  were  the  old  challenge  of  the  powder  horn. 
No  matter  how  she  shivered  she  must  show  what 


92  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

brave  stuff  she  was  made  of.  Even  with  that  awful 
foreboding  clutching  at  her  heart  like  an  iron  hand 
and  Barby  about  to  leave  her,  she  mustn't  show  one 
sign  of  her  distress. 

It  was  well  that  Georgina  had  learned  to  move 
briskly  in  her  long  following  after  Tippy,  else  she 
could  not  have  been  of  such  service  in  this  emergency. 
Her  eyes  were  blurred  with  tears  as  she  hurried  up 
to  the  garret  for  suitcase  and  satchel,  and  down  the 
hall  to  look  up  numbers  in  the  telephone  directory. 
But  it  was  a  comfort  even  in  the  midst  of  her  distress 
to  feel  that  she  could  take  such  an  important  part  in 
the  preparations,  that  Tippy  trusted  her  to  do  the 
necessary  telephoning,  and  to  put  up  a  lunch  for 
Barby  without  dictating  either  the  messages  or  the 
contents  of  the  lunch-box. 

When  Mr.  James  Milford  called  up,  immediately 
after  Richard  had  raced  home  with  the  news,  and 
offered  to  take  Mrs.  Huntingdon  to  the  boat  in  his 
machine,  he  thought  it  was  Mrs.  Huntingdon  herself 
who  answered  him.  The  trembling  voice  seemed 
only  natural  under  the  circumstances.  He  would 
have  smiled  could  he  have  seen  the  pathetic  little  face 
uplifted  towards  the  receiver,  the  quivering  lip  still 
adorned  with  the  fierce  mustachios  of  Gory  George, 
in  strange  contrast  to  the  soft  curls  hanging  over  her 
shoulders  now  that  they  were  no  longer  hidden  by  a 
piratical  hat.  She  had  forgotten  that  she  was  in 
knickerbockers  instead  of  skirts,  and  that  the  old 


The  Telegram  That  Took  Barby  Away    93 

horse-pistol  was  still  at  her  belt,  until  Barbara  caught 
her  to  her  at  parting  with  a  laugh  that  turned  into 
a  sob,  looking  for  a  spot  on  her  face  clean  enough  to 
kiss. 

It  was  all  over  so  soon — the  machine  whirling  up 
to  the  door  and  away  again  to  stop  at  the  bank  an 
instant  for  the  money  which  Georgina  had  telephoned 
to  have  waiting,  and  then  on  to  the  railroad  wharf 
where  the  Dorothy  Bradford  had  already  sounded 
her  first  warning  whistle.  Georgina  had  no  time  to 
realize  what  was  actually  happening  until  it  was  over. 
She  climbed  up  into  the  mammoth  willow  tree  in  the 
corner  of  the  yard  to  watch  for  the  steamboat.  It 
would  come  into  view  in  a  few  minutes  as  it  ploughed 
majestically  through  the  water  towards  the  light- 
house. 

Then  desolation  fell  upon  her.  She  had  never 
realized  until  that  moment  how  dear  her  mother  was 
to  her.  Then  the  thought  came  to  her,  suppose  it 
was  Barby  who  had  been  hurt  in  an  accident,  and 
she  Georgina,  was  hurrying  to  her  as  Barby  was  hur- 
rying to  grandfather  Shirley,  unknowing  what 
awaited  her  at  the  journey's  end.  For  a  moment  she 
forgot  her  own  unhappiness  at  being  left  behind,  in 
sympathetic  understanding  of  her  mother's  distress. 
She  wasn't  going  to  think  about  her  part  of  it  she 
told  herself,  she  was  going  to  be  so  brave 

Then  her  glance  fell  on  the  "holiday  tree." 

The  holiday  tree  was  a  little  evergreen  of  Barby's 


94  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

christening  if  not  of  her  planting.  For  every  gala 
day  in  the  year  it  bore  strange  fruit,  no  matter  what 
the  season.  At  Hallowe'en  it  was  as  gay  with  jack- 
o-lanterns  and  witches'  caps  as  if  the  pixies  them- 
selves had  decorated  it.  On  Washington's  birthday 
each  branch  was  tipped  with  a  flag  and  a  cherry  tart. 
On  the  fourteenth  of  February  it  was  hung  with  val- 
entines, and  at  Easter  she  was  always  sure  of  finding 
a  candy  rabbit  or  two  perched  among  its  branches 
and  nests  of  colored  eggs.  It  seemed  to  be  at  its 
best  at  Christmas,  but  it  was  when  it  took  its  turns  at 
birthday  celebrations  that  it  was  most  wonderful. 
Then  it  blossomed  with  little  glass  lanterns  of  every 
color,  glowing  like  red  and  green  and  golden  stars. 
Last  year  it  had  borne  a  great  toy  ship  with  all  sails 
set,  and  nine  "surprise"  oranges,  round,  yellow  boxes, 
each  containing  a  gift,  because  she  was  nine  years 
old.  In  just  two  more  days  she  would  be  ten,  and 
Barby  gone ! 

At  that  instant  the  boat  whistle  sounded  long  and 
deep,  sending  its  melodious  boom  across  the  water. 
It  seemed  to  strike  some  chord  in  the  very  center  of 
her  being,  and  make  her  feel  as  if  something  inside 
were  sinking  down  and  down  and  down.  The  sen- 
sation was  sickening.  It  grew  worse  as  the  boat 
steamed  away.  She  stood  up  on  a  limb  to  watch  it. 
Smaller  and  smaller  it  seemed,  leaving  only  a  long 
plume  of  smoke  in  its  wake  as  it  disappeared  around 
Long  Point.  Then  even  the  smoke  faded,  and  a  for- 


The  Telegram  That  Took  Barby  Away   95 

lorn  little  figure,  strangely  at  variance  with  the  fierce 
pirate  suit,  she  crumpled  up  in  the  crotch  of  the  wil- 
low, her  face  hidden  in  her  elbow,  and  began  to  sob 
piteously:  "Oh,  Barby!  Barby!" 


\    . 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    BIRTHDAY    PRISM 

^  I AHE  Towncrier,  passing  along  the  street  on  an 
•*•  early  morning  trip  to  the  bakery,  stopped  at  the 
door  of  the  antique  shop,  for  a  word  with  Mrs. 
Yates,  the  lady^ho  kept  it.  She  wanted  him  to 
"cry"  an  especial  bargain  sale  of  old  lamps  later  in 
the  week.  That  is  how  he  happened  to  be  standing 
in  the  front  door  when  the  crash  came  in  the  rear  of 
the  shop,  and  it  was  because  he  was  standing  there 
that  the  crash  came. 

Because  Mrs.  Yates  was  talking  to  him  she 
couldn't  be  at  the  back  door  when  the  fish-boy  came 
with  the  fish,  and  nobody  being  there  to  take  it  the 
instant  he  knocked,  the  boy  looked  in  and  threw  it 
down  on  the  table  nearest  the  door.  And  because  the 
fish  was  left  to  lie  there  a  moment  while  Mrs.  Yates 
finished  her  conversation,  the  cat,  stretched  out  on 
the  high  window  ledge  above  the  table,  decided  to 
have  his  breakfast  without  waiting  to  be  called.  He 
was  an  enormous  cat  by  the  name  of  "Grandpa," 
and  because  he  was  old  and  ponderous,  and  no  longer 
light  on  his  feet,  when  he  leaped  from  the  window- 
sill  he  came  down  clumsily  in  the  middle  of  the  very 

96 


The  Birthday  Prism  97 

table  full  of  the  old  lamps  which  were  set  aside  for 
the  bargain  sale. 

Of  course,  it  was  the  biggest  and  fanciest  lamp 
in  the  lot  that  was  broken — a  tall  one  with  a  frosted 
glass  shade  and  a  row  of  crystal  prisms  dangling 
around  the  bowl  of  it.  It  toppled  over  on  to  a  pair 
of  old  brass  andirons,  smashing  into  a  thousand 
pieces.  Bits  of  glass  flew  in  every  direction,  and 
"Grandpa,"  his  fur  electrified  by  his  fright  until  he 
looked  twice  his  natural  size,  shot  through  the  door 
as  if  fired  from  a  cannon,  and  was  seen  no  more 
that  morning. 

Naturally,  Mrs.  Yates  hurried  to  the  back  of  the 
store  to  see  what  had  happened,  and  Mr.  Darcy,  fol- 
lowing, picked  up  from  the  wreck  the  only  piece  of 
the  lamp  not  shattered  to  bits  by  the  fall.  It  was  one 
of  the  prisms,  which  in  some  miraculous  way  had 
survived  the  crash,  a  beautiful  crystal  pendant  with- 
out a  single  nick  or  crack. 

He  picked  it  up  and  rubbed  his  coat  sleeve  down 
each  of  its  three  sides,  and  when  he  held  it  up  to  the 
light  it  sent  a  ripple  of  rainbows  dancing  across  the 
shop.  He  watched  them,  pleased  as  a  child;  and 
when  Mrs.  Yates,  loud  in  her  complaints  of  Grandpa, 
came  with  broom  and  dustpan  to  sweep  up  the  litter, 
he  bargained  with  her  for  the  prism. 

That  is  how  he  happened  to  have  an  offering  for 
Georgina's  birthday  when  he  reached  the  house  a 
couple  of  hours  later,  not  knowing  that  it  was  her 


98  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

birthday.  Nobody  had  remembered  it,  Barby  being 
gone. 

It  seemed  to  Georgina  the  forlornest  day  she  had 
ever  opened  her  eyes  upon.  The  very  fact  that  it 
was  gloriously  sunny  with  a  delicious  summer  breeze 
ruffling  the  harbor  and  sending  the  white  sails  scud- 
ding along  like  wings,  made  her  feel  all  the  more 
desolate.  She  was  trying  her  best  to  forget  what  day 
it  was,  but  there  wasn't  much  to  keep  her  mind  off  the 
subject.  Even  opportunities  for  helping  Tippy  were 
taken  away,  for  Belle  had  come  to  stay  during  Bar- 
by's  absence,  and  she  insisted  on  doing  what  Geor- 
gina otherwise  would  have  done. 

If  Barby  had  been  at  home  there  would  have  been 
no  piano  practice  on  such  a  gala  occasion  as  a  tenth 
birthday.  There  would  have  been  no  time  for  it  in 
the  program  of  joyful  happenings.  But  because  time 
dragged,  Georgina  went  to  her  scales  and  five-finger 
exercises  as  usual.  With  the  hour-glass  on  the  piano 
beside  her,  she  practised  not  only  her  accustomed 
time,  till  the  sand  had  run  half  through,  but  until  all 
but  a  quarter  of  it  had  slipped  down.  Then  she 
sauntered  listlessly  out  into  the  dining-room  and 
stood  by  one  of  the  open  windows,  looking  out 
through  the  wire  screen  into  the  garden. 

On  any  other  day  she  would  have  found  enter- 
tainment in  the  kitchen  listening  to  Belle  and  Mrs. 
Triplett.  Belle  seemed  doubly  interesting  now  that 
she  had  heard  of  the  unused  wedding  dress  and  the 
sorrow  that  would  "blight  her  whole  life."  But 


The  Birthday  Prism  99 

Georgina  did  not  want  anyone  to  see  how  bitterly  she 
was  disappointed. 

Just  outside,  so  close  to  the  window  that  she  could 
have  reached  out  and  touched  it  had  it  not  been  for 
the  screen,  stood  the  holiday  tree.  It  had  held  out 
its  laden  arms  to  her  on  so  many  festal  occasions 
that  Georgina  had  grown  to  feel  that  it  took  a  human 
interest  in  all  her  celebrations.  To  see  it  standing 
bare  now,  like  any  ordinary  tree,  made  her  feel  that 
her  last  friend  was  indifferent.  Nobody  cared.  No- 
body was  glad  that  she  was  in  the  world.  In  spite  of 
all  she  could  do  to  check  them,  two  big  tears  welled 
up  and  rolled  down  her  cheeks;  then  another  and  an- 
other. She  lifted  up  the  hem  of  her  dress  to  wipe 
them  away,  and  as  she  did  so  Uncle  Darcy  came 
around  the  house. 

He  looked  in  at  the  open  window,  then  asked: 
"Weather  a  bit  squally,  hey?  Better  put  into  port 
and  tie  up  till  storm's  over.  Let  your  Uncle  Darcy 
have  a  hand  at  the  helm.  Come  out  here,  Barby,  and 
let's  talk  it  over  on  the  door-step." 

There  was  something  so  heartening  in  the  cheery 
voice  that  Georgina  made  one  more  dab  at  her  eyes 
with  the  hem  of  her  dress  skirt,  then  dropped  it  and 
went  out  through  the  screen  door  to  join  him  on  the 
steps  which  led  down  into  the  garden.  At  first  she 
was  loath  to  confess  the  cause  of  her  tears.  She  felt 
ashamed  of  being  caught  crying  simply  because  no 
one  had  remembered  the  date.  It  wasn't  that  she 


1OO         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

wanted  presents,  she  sobbed.  It  was  that  she  wanted 
someone  to  be  glad  that  she'd  been  born  and  it  was 
so  lonesome  without  Barby 

In  the  midst  of  her  reluctant  confession  Mr. 
Darcy  bethought  himself  of  the  prism  in  his  pocket. 

"Here,"  he  said,  drawing  it  out.  "Take  this  and 
put  a  rainbow  around  your  troubles.  It's  a  sort  of 
magic  glass.  When  you  look  through  it,  it  shows 
you  things  you  can't  see  with  your  ordinary  eyes. 
Look  what  it  does  to  the  holiday  tree." 

There  was  a  long-drawn  breath  of  amazement 
from  Georgina  as  she  held  the  prism  to  her  eyes  and 
looked  through  it  at  the  tree. 

"Oh!  Oh!  It  does  put  a  rainbow  around  every 
branch  and  every  little  tuft  of  green  needles.  It's 
even  lovelier  than  the  colored  lanterns  were.  Isn't 
it  wonderful?  It  puts  a  rainbow  around  the  whole 
outdoors." 

Her  gaze  went  from  the  grape  arbor  to  the  back 
garden  gate.  Then  she  jumped  up  and  started 
around  the  house,  the  old  man  following,  and  smiling 
over  each  enthusiastic  "oh"  she  uttered,  as  the  prism 
showed  her  new  beauty  at  every  step.  He  was 
pleased  to  have  been  the  source  of  her  new  pleasure. 

"It's  like  looking  into  a  different  world,"  she  cried, 
as  she  reached  the  kitchen  door,  and  eagerly  turned 
the  prism  from  one  object  to  another.  Mrs.  Trip- 
lett  was  scowling  intently  over  the  task  of  trying  to 
turn  the  lid  of  a  glass  jar  which  refused  to  budge. 


The  Birthday  Prism  101 

"Oh,  it  even  puts  a  rainbow  around  Tippy's 
frown,"  Georgina  cried  excitedly.  Then  she  ran  to 
hold  the  prism  over  Belle's  eyes. 

"Look  what  Uncle  Darcy  brought  me  for  my 
birthday.  See  how  it  puts  a  rainbow  around  every 
blessed  thing,  even  the  old  black  pots  and  pans !" 

In  showing  it  to  Tippy  she  discovered  a  tiny  hole 
in  the  end  of  the  prism  by  which  it  had  been  hung 
from  the  lamp,  and  she  ran  upstairs  to  find  a  piece 
of  ribbon  to  run  through  it.  When  she  came  down 
again,  the  prism  hanging  from  her  neck  by  a  long 
pink  ribbon,  Uncle  Darcy  greeted  her  with  a  new 
version  of  the  Banbury  Cross  song: 

"Rings  on  her  fingers  and  ribbon  of  rose. 
She  shall  have  rainbows  wherever  she  goes." 

"That's  even  better  than  having  music  wherever 
you  go,"  answered  Georgina,  whirling  around  on  her 
toes.  Then  she  stopped  in  a  listening  attitude,  hear- 
ing the  postman. 

When  she  came  back  from  the  front  door  with 
only  a  magazine  her  disappointment  was  keen,  but 
she  said  bravely: 

"Of  course,  I  knew  there  couldn't  be  a  letter  from 
Barby  this  soon.  She  couldn't  get  there  till  last  night 
— but  just  for  a  minute  I  couldn't  help  hoping — but 
I  didn't  mind  it  half  so  much,  Uncle  Darcy,  when  I 


1O2         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

looked  at  the  postman  through  the  prism.    Even  his 
whiskers  were  blue  and  red  and  yellow." 

That  afternoon  a  little  boat  went  dipping  up  and 
down  across  the  waves.  It  was  The  Betsey,  with 
Uncle  Darcy  pulling  at  the  oars  and  Georgina  as 
passenger.  Lifting  the  prism  which  still  hung  from 
her  neck  by  the  pink  ribbon,  she  looked  out  upon 
what  seemed  to  be  an  enchanted  harbor.  It  was 
filled  with  a  fleet  of  rainbows.  Every  sail  was  out- 
lined with  one,  every  mast  edged  with  lines  of  red 
and  gold  and  blue.  Even  the  gray  wharves  were 
tinged  with  magical  color,  and  the  water  itself,  to 
her  reverent  thought,  suggested  the  "sea  of  glass 
mingled  with  fire,"  which  is  pictured  as  one  of  the 
glories  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 

"Isn't  it  wonderful,  Uncle  Darcy?"  she  asked  in 
a  hushed,  awed  tone.  "It's  just  like  a  miracle  the  way 
this  bit  of  glass  changes  the  whole  world.  Isn't  it?" 

Before  he  could  answer,  a  shrill  whistle  sounded 
near  at  hand.  They  were  passing  the  boathouse  on 
the  beach  below  the  Green  Stairs.  Looking  up  they 
saw  Richard,  hanging  out  of  the  open  doors  of  the 
loft,  waving  to  them.  Georgina  stood  up  in  the  boat 
and  beckoned,  but  he  shook  his  head,  pointing  back- 
ward with  his  thumb  into  the  studio,  and  disconso- 
lately shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"He  wants  to  go  so  bad!"  exclaimed  Georgina. 
"Seems  as  if  his  father's  a  mighty  slow  painter. 


The  Birthday  Prism  103 

Maybe  if  you'd  ask  him  the  way  you  did  before, 
Uncle  Darcy,  he'd  let  Richard  off  this  one  more  time 
— being  my  birthday,  you  know." 

She  looked  at  him  with  the  bewitching  smile  which 
he  usually  found  impossible  to  resist,  but  this  time 
he  shook  his  head. 

"No,  I  don't  want  him  along  to-day.  I've  brought 
you  out  here  to  show  you  something  and  have  a  lit- 
tle talk  with  you  alone.  Maybe  I  ought  to  wait  till 
you're  older  before  I  say  what  I  want  to  say,  but  at 
my  time  of  life  I'm  liable  to  slip  off  without  much 
warning,  and  I  don't  want  to  go  till  I've  said  it  to 
you." 

Georgina  put  down  her  prism  to  stare  at  him  in 
eager-eyed  wonder.  She  was  curious  to  know  what 
he  could  show  her  out  here  on  the  water,  and  what 
he  wanted  to  tell  her  that  was  as  important  as  his 
solemn  words  implied. 

"Wait  till  we  come  to  it,"  he  said,  answering  the 
unspoken  question  in  her  eyes.  And  Georgina,  who 
dearly  loved  dramatic  effects  in  her  own  story-telling, 
waited  for  something — she  knew  not  what — to  burst 
upon  her  expectant  sight. 

They  followed  the  line  of  the  beach  for  some  time, 
dodging  in  between  motor  boats  and  launches,  under 
the  high  railroad  wharf  and  around  the  smaller  ones 
where  the  old  fish-houses  stood.  Past  groups  of 
children,  playing  in  the  sand  they  went,  past  artists 


104         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

sketching  under  their  white  umbrellas,  past  gardens 
gay  with  bright  masses  of  color,  past  drying  nets 
spread  out  on  the  shore. 

Presently  Uncle  Darcy  stopped  rowing  and 
pointed  across  a  vacant  strip  of  beach  between  two 
houses,  to  one  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 

"There  it  is,"  he  announced.  "That's  what  I 
wanted  to  show  you." 

Georgina  followed  the  direction  of  his  pointing 
finger. 

"Oh,  that !"  she  said  in  a  disappointed  tone.  "I've 
seen  that  all  my  life.  It's  nothing  but  the  Figurehead 
House." 

She  was  looking  at  a  large  white  house  with  a 
portico  over  the  front  door,  on  the  roof  of  which 
portico  was  perched  half  of  the  wooden  figure  of  a 
woman.  It  was  of  heroic  size,  head  thrown  back  as 
if  looking  off  to  sea,  and  with  a  green  wreath  in  its 
hands.  Weather-beaten  and  discolored,  it  was  not 
an  imposing  object  at  first  glance,  and  many  a  jibe 
and  laugh  it  had  called  forth  from  passing  tourists. 

Georgina's  disappointment  showed  in  her  face. 

"I  know  all  about  that,"  she  remarked.  "Mrs. 
Tupman  told  me  herself.  She  calls  it  the  Lady  of 
Mystery.  She  said  that  years  and  years  ago  a 
schooner  put  out  from  this  town  on  a  whaling  cruise, 
and  was  gone  more  than  a  year.  When  it  was  cross- 
ing the  equator,  headed  for  home,  the  look-out  at 


The  Birthday  Prism  105 

the  masthead  saw  a  strange  object  in  the  water  that 
looked  like  a  woman  afloat.  The  Captain  gave  or- 
ders to  lower  the  boats,  and  when  they  did  so  they 
found  this  figurehead.  She  said  it  must  have  come 
from  the  prow  of  some  great  clipper  in  the  East 
India  trade.  They  were  in  the  Indian  Ocean,  you 
know. 

"There  had  been  some  frightful  storms  and  after- 
wards they  heard  of  many  wrecks.  This  figurehead 
was  so  long  they  had  to  cut  it  in  two  to  get  it  into 
the  hold  of  the  vessel.  They  brought  it  home  and 
set  it  up  there  over  the  front  door,  and  they  call  it 
the  Lady  of  Mystery,  because  they  said  'from  whence 
that  ship  came,  what  was  its  fate  arid  what  was  its 
destination  will  always  be  shrouded  in  mystery.'  And 
Mrs.  Tupman  said  that  a  famous  artist  looked  at  it 
once  and  said  it  was  probably  the  work  of  a  Spanish 
artist,  and  that  from  the  pose  of  its  head  and  the 
wreath  in  its  hands  he  was  sure  it  was  intended  to 
represent  Hope.  Was  that  what  you  were  going  to 
tell  me?" 

The  old  man  had  rested  on  his  oars  while  she  hur- 
ried through  this  tale,  with  a  mischievous  twinkle  in 
her  eyes,  as  if  she  thought  she  was  forestalling  him. 
Now  he  picked  them  up  again  and  began  rowing  out 
into  the  harbor. 

"That  was  a  part  of  it,"  he  admitted,  "but  that's 
only  the  part  that  the  whole  town  knows.  That  old 


io6         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

figurehead  has  a  meaning  for  me  that  nobody  else 
that's  living  knows  about.  That's  what  I  want  to 
pass  on  to  you." 

He  rowed  several  minutes  more  before  he  said 
slowly,  with  a  wistful  tenderness  coming  into  his  dim 
old  eyes  as  he  looked  at  her: 

"Georgina,  I  don't  suppose  anybody's  ever  told 
you  about  the  troubles  I've  had.  They  wouldn't  talk 
about  such  things  to  a  child  like  you.  Maybe  I 
shouldn't,  now;  but  when  I  saw  how  disappointed 
you  were  this  morning,  I  said  to  myself,  'If  she's  old 
enough  to  feel  trouble  that  way,  she's  old  enough  to 
understand  and  to  be  helped  by  hearing  about 
mine.'  " 

It  seemed  hard  for  him  to  go  on,  for  again  he 
paused,  looking  off  toward  the  lighthouse  in  the  dis- 
tance. Then  he  said  slowly,  in  a  voice  that  shook 
at  times: 

"Once — I  had  a  boy — that  I  set  all  my  hopes  on — 
just  as  a  man  puts  all  his  cargo  into  one  vessel ;  and 
nobody  was  ever  prouder  than  I  was,  when  that  little 
craft  went  sailing  along  with  the  best  of  them.  I 
used  to  look  at  him  and  think,  'Danny' II  weather  the 
seas  no  matter  how  rough  they  are,  and  he'll  bring  up 
in  the  harbor  I'm  hoping  he'll  reach,  with  all  flags 
flying.'  And  then — something  went  wrong " 

The  tremulous  voice  broke.  "My  little  ship  went 
down — all  my  precious  cargo  lost " 

Another  and  a   longer  pause.      In   it  Georgina 


The  Birthday  Prism  107 

seemed  to  hear  Cousin  Mehitable's  husky  voice,  half 
whispering : 

"And  the  lamp  threw  a  shadow  on  the  yellow 
blind,  plain  as  a  photograph.  The  shadow  of  an  old 
man  sitting  with  his  arms  flung  out  across  the  table 
and  his  head  bowed  on  them.  And  he  was  groan- 
ing, 'Oh,  my  Danny!  My  Danny!  If  you  could  only 
have  gone  that  way.'  " 

For  a  moment  Georgina  felt  the  cruel  hurt  of  his 
grief  as  if  the  pain  had  stabbed  her  own  heart.  The 
old  man  went  on : 

"If  it  had  only  been  any  other  kind  of  a  load,  any- 
thing but  disgrace,  I  could  have  carried  it  without 
flinching.  But  that,  it  seemed  I  just  couldn't  face. 
Only  the  good  Lord  knows  how  I  lived  through  those 
first  few  weeks.  Then  your  grandfather  Huntingdon 
came  to  me.  He  was  always  a  good  friend.  And  he 
asked  me  to  row  him  out  here  on  the  water.  When 
we  passed  the  Figurehead  House  he  pointed  up  at  that 
head.  It  was  all  white  and  fair  in  those  days,  before 
the  paint  wore  off.  And  he  said,  'Dan'l  Darcy,  as 
long  as  a  man  keeps  Hope  at  the  prow  he  keeps 
afloat.  As  soon  as  he  drops  it  he  goes  to  pieces  and 
down  to  the  bottom,  the  way  that  ship  did  when  it 
lost  its  figurehead.  You  mustn't  let  go,  Dan'l.  You 
must  keep  Hope  at  the  prow. 

'  'Somewhere  in  God's  universe  either  in  this 
world  or  another  your  boy  is  alive  and  still  your  son. 
You've  got  to  go  on  hoping  that  if  he's  innocent  his 


io8         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

name  will  be  cleared  of  this  disgrace,  and  if  he's 
guilty  he'll  wipe  out  the  old  score  against  him  some 
way  and  make  good.' 

"And  then  he  gave  me  a  line  to  live  by.  A  line 
he  said  that  had  been  written  by  a  man  who  was 
stone  blind,  and  hadn't  anything  to  look  forward  to 
all  the  rest  of  his  life  but  groping  in  the  dark.  He 
said  he'd  not 

"  'Bate  a  jot 

Of  heart  or  hope,  but  still  bear  up  and  steer 
Right  onward.' 

"At  first  it  didn't  seem  to  mean  anything  to  me,  but 
he  made  me  say  it  after  him  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of 
promise,  and  I've  been  saying  it  every  day  of  every 
year  since  then.  I'd  said  it  to  myself  first,  when  I 
met  people  on  the  street  that  I  knew  were  thinking 
of  Danny's  disgrace,  and  I  didn't  see  how  I  was 
going  to  get  up  courage  to  pass  'em.  And  I  said  it 
when  I  was  lying  on  my  bed  at  night  with  my  heart 
so  sore  and  heavy  I  couldn't  sleep,  and  after  a  while 
it  did  begin  to  put  courage  into  me,  so  that  I  could 
hope  in  earnest.  And  when  I  did  that,  little 
lass " 

He  leaned  over  to  smile  into  her  eyes,  now  full 
of  tears,  he  had  so  wrought  upon  her  tender  sym- 
pathies  

"When  I  did  that,  it  put  a  rainbow  around  my 


The  Birthday  Prism  109 

trouble  just  as  that  prism  did  around  your  empty 
holiday  tree.  It  changed  the  looks  of  the  whole 
world  for  me. 

"That's  what  I  brought  you  out  here  to  tell  you, 
Georgina.  I  want  to  give  you  the  same  thintr  that 
your  grandfather  Huntingdon  gave  me — that  line  to 
live  by.  Because  troubles  come  to  everybody. 
They'll  come  to  you,  too,  but  I  want  you  to  know  this, 
Baby,  they  can't  hurt  you  as  long  as  you  keep  Hope 
at  the  prow,  because  Hope  is  a  magic  glass  that 
makes  rainbows  of  our  tears.  Now  you  won't  forget 
that,  will  you?  Even  after  Uncle  Darcy  is  dead  and 
gone,  you'll  remember  that  he  brought  you  out  here 
on  your  birthday  to  give  you  that  good  word — 'still 
bear  up  and  steer  right  onward,'  no  matter  what 
happens.  And  to  tell  you  that  in  all  the  long,  hard 
years  he's  lived  through,  he's  proved  it  was  good." 

Georgina,  awed  and  touched  of  soul,  could  only 
nod  her  assent.  But  because  Childhood  sometimes 
has  no  answer  to  make  to  the  confidences  of  Age  is 
no  reason  that  they  are  not  taken  to  heart  and  stowed 
away  there  for  the  years  to  build  upon.  In  the  un- 
broken silence  with  which  they  rowed  back  to  shore, 
Georgina  might  have  claimed  three  score  years  be- 
sides her  own  ten,  so  perfect  was  the  feeling  of  com- 
radeship between  them. 

As  they  passed  the  pier  back  of  the  antique  shop, 
a  great  gray  cat  rose  and  stretched  itself,  then  walked 
ponderously  down  to  the  water's  edge.  It  was 


no         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Grandpa."  Georgina,  laughing  a  little  shakily  be- 
cause of  recent  tears,  raised  her  prism  to  put  a  rain- 
bow around  the  cat's  tail,  unknowing  that  but  for  him 
the  crystal  pendant  would  now  be  hanging  from  an 
antique  lamp  instead  of  from  the  ribbon  around  her 
neck. 


CHAPTER    X 

MOVING   PICTURES 

T  T  often  happens  that  when  one  is  all  primed  and 
•*•  cocked  for  trouble,  that  trouble  flaps  its  wings 
and  flies  away  for  a  time,  leaving  nothing  to  fire  at. 
So  Georgina,  going  home  with  her  prism  and  her 
"line  to  live  by,"  ready  and  eager  to  prove  how 
bravely  she  could  meet  disappointments,  found  only 
pleasant  surprises  awaiting  her. 

Mrs.  Triplett  had  made  a  birthday  cake  in  her  ab- 
sence. It  was  on  the  supper  table  with  ten  red 
candles  atop.  And  there  was  a  note  from  Barby  be- 
side her  plate  which  had  come  in  the  last  mail.  It 
had  been  posted  at  some  way-station.  There  was  a 
check  inside  for  a  dollar  which  she  was  to  spend  as 
she  pleased.  A  dear  little  note  it  was,  which  made 
Georgina's  throat  ache  even  while  it  brought  a  glow 
to  her  heart.  Then  Belle,  who  had  not  known  it  was 
her  birthday  in  time  to  make  her  a  present,  an- 
nounced that  she  would  take  her  to  a  moving  picture 
show  after  supper,  instead. 

Georgina  had  frequently  been  taken  to  afternoon 
performances,  but  never  at  night.  It  was  an  adven- 
ture in  itself  just  to  be  down  in  the  part  of  town 

in 


112          Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

where  the  shops  were,  when  they  were  all  lighted,  and 
when  the  summer  people  were  surging  along  the 
board-walk  and  out  into  the  middle  of  the  narrow 
street  in  such  crowds  that  the  automobiles  and  "ac- 
commodations" had  to  push  their  way  through 
slowly,  with  a  great  honking  of  warning  horns. 

The  Town  Hall  was  lighted  for  a  dance  when 
they  passed  it.  The  windows  of  the  little  souvenir 
shops  seemed  twice  as  attractive  as  when  seen  by  day, 
and  early  as  it  was.  in  the  evening,  people  were  al- 
ready lined  up  in  the  drug-store,  three  deep  around 
the  soda-water  fountain. 

Georgina,  thankful  that  Tippy  had  allowed  her  to 
wear  her  gold  locket  for  the  occasion,  walked  down 
the  aisle  and  took  her  seat  near  the  stage,  feeling  as 
conspicuous  and  self-conscious  as  any  debutante  en- 
tering a  box  at  Grand  Opera. 

It  was  a  hot  night,  but  on  a  line  with  the  front 
seats,  there  was  a  double  side  door  opening  out  onto 
a  dock.  From  where  Georgina  sat  she  could  look  out 
through  the  door  and  see  the  lights  of  a  hundred 
boats  twinkling  in  long  wavy  lines  across  the  black 
water,  and  now  and  then  a  salt  breeze  with  the  fishy 
tang  she  loved,  stole  across  the  room  and  touched  her 
cheek  like  a  cool  finger. 

The  play  was  not  one  which  Barbara  would  have 
chosen  for  Georgina  to  see,  being  one  that  was  adver- 
tised as  a  thriller.  It  was  full  of  hair-breadth  es- 
capes and  tragic  scenes.  There  was  a  shipwreck  in 


Moving  Pictures  113 

it,  and  passengers  were  brought  ashore  in  the 
breeches  buoy,  just  as  she  had  seen  sailors  brought 
in  on  practice  days  over  at  the  Race  Point  Life- 
saving  station.  And  there  was  a  still  form  stretched 
out  stark  and  dripping  under  a  piece  of  tarpaulin, 
and  a  girl  with  long  fair  hair  streaming  wildly  over 
her  shoulders  knelt  beside  it  wringing  her  hands. 

Georgina  stole  a  quick  side-glance  at  Belle.  That 
was  the  way  it  had  been  in  the  story  of  Emmett  Pot- 
ter's drowning,  as  they  told  it  on  the  day  of  Cousin 
Mehitable's  visit.  Belle's  hands  were  locked  to- 
gether in  her  lap,  and  her  lips  were  pressed  in  a  thin 
line  as  if  she  were  trying  to  keep  from  saying  some- 
thing. Several  times  in  the  semi-darkness  of  the 
house  her  handkerchief  went  furtively  to  her  eyes. 

Georgina's  heart  beat  faster.  Somehow,  with  the 
piano  pounding  out  that  deep  tum-tum,  like  waves 
booming  up  on  the  rocks,  she  began  to  feel  strangely 
confused,  as  if  she  were  the  heroine  on  the  films; 
as  if  she  were  kneeling  there  on  the  shore  in  that 
tragic  moment  of  parting  from  her  dead  lover.  She 
was  sure  that  she  knew  exactly  how  Belle  felt  then, 
how  she  was  feeling  now. 

When  the  lights  were  switched  on  again  and  they 
rose  to  go  out,  Georgina  was  so  deeply  under  the 
spell  of  the  play  that  it  gave  her  a  little  shock  of 
surprise  when  Belle  began  talking  quite  cheerfully 
and  in  her  ordinary  manner  to  her  next  neighbor. 
She  even  laughed  in  response  to  some  joking  remark 


114         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

as  they  edged  their  way  slowly  up  the  aisle  to  the 
door.  It  seemed  to  Georgina  that  if  she  had  lived 
through  a  scene  like  the  one  they  had  just  witnessed, 
she  could  never  smile  again.  On  the  way  out  she 
glanced  up  again  at  Belle  several  times,  wondering. 

Going  home  the  street  was  even  more  crowded 
than  it  had  been  coming.  They  could  barely  push 
their  way  along,  and  were  bumped  into  constantly 
by  people  dodging  back  to  escape  the  jam  when  the 
crowd  had  to  part  to  let  a  vehicle  through.  But  after 
a  few  blocks  of  such  jostling  the  going  was  easier. 
The  drug-store  absorbed  part  of  the  throng,  and 
most  of  the  procession  turned  up  Carver  Street  to 
the  Gifford  House  and  the  cottages  beyond  on  Brad- 
ford Street. 

By  the  time  Georgina  and  Belle  came  to  the  last 
half-mile  of  vhe  plank  walk,  scarcely  a  footstep 
sounded  behind  them.  After  passing  the  Green 
Stairs  there  was  an  unobstructed  view  of  the  harbor. 
A  full  moon  was  high  overhead,  flooding  the  water 
and  beach  with  such  a  witchery  of  light  that  Geor- 
gina moved  along  as  if  she  were  in  a  dream — in  a 
silver  dream  beside  a  silver  sea. 

Belle  pointed  to  a  little  pavilion  in  sight  of  the 
breakwater.  "Let's  go  over  there  and  sit  down  a 
few  minutes,"  she  said.  "It's  a  waste  of  good  ma- 
terial to  go  indoors  on  a  night  like  this." 

They  crossed  over,  sinking  in  the  sand  as  they 
stepped  from  the  road  to  the  beach,  till  Georgina 


Moving  Pictures  115 

had  to  take  off  her  slippers  and  shake  them  before 
she  could  settle  down  comfortably  on  the  bench  in 
the  pavilion.  They  sat  there  a  while  without  speak- 
ing, just  as  they  had  sat  before  the  pictures  on  the 
films,  for  never  on  any  film  was  ever  shown  a  scene 
of  such  entrancing  loveliness  as  the  one  spread  out 
before  them.  In  the  broad  path  made  by  the  moon 
hung  ghostly  sails,  rose  great  masts,  twinkled 
myriads  of  lights.  It  was  so  still  they  could  hear 
the  swish  of  the  tide  creeping  up  below,  the  dip  of 
near-by  oars  and  the  chug  of  a  motor  boat,  far  away 
down  by  the  railroad  wharf. 

Then  Belle  began  to  talk.  She  looked  straight  out 
across  the  shining  path  of  the  moon  and  spoke  as  if 
she  were  by  herself.  She  did  not  look  at  Georgina, 
sitting  there  beside  her.  Perhaps  if  she  had,  she 
would  have  realized  that  her  listener  was  only  a 
child  and  would  not  have  said  all  she  did.  Or  maybe, 
something  within  her  felt  the  influence  of  the  night, 
the  magical  drawing  of  the  moon  as  the  tide  feels  it, 
and  she  could  not  hold  back  the  long-repressed 
speech  that  rose  to  her  lips.  Maybe  it  was  that  the 
play  they  had  seen,  quickened  old  memories  into  pain- 
ful life  again. 

It  was  on  a  night  just  like  this,  she  told  Georgina, 
that  Emmett  first  told  her  that  he  cared  for  her — 
ten  years  ago  this  summer.  Ten  years !  The  whole 
of  Georgina's  little  lifetime!  And  now  Belle  was 
twenty-seven.  Twenty-seven  seemed  very  old  to 


1 1 6         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Georgina.  She  stole  another  upward  glance  at  her 
companion.  Belle  did  not  look  old,  sitting  there  in 
her  white  dress,  like  a  white  moonflower  in  that  silver 
radiance,  a  little  lock  of  soft  blonde  hair  fluttering 
across  her  cheek. 

In  a  rush  of  broken  sentences  with  long  pauses  be- 
tween which  somehow  told  almost  as  much  as  words, 
Belle  recalled  some  of  the  scenes  of  that  summer,  and 
Georgina,  who  up  to  this  night  had  only  glimpsed  the 
dim  outlines  of  romance,  as  a  child  of  ten  would 
glimpse  them  through  old  books,  suddenly  saw  it 
face  to  face,  and  thereafter  found  it  something  to 
wonder  about  and  dream  sweet,  vague  dreams  over. 

Suddenly  Belle  stood  up  with  a  complete  change 
of  manner. 

"My!  it  must  be  getting  late,"  she  said  briskly. 
"Aunt  Maria  will  scold  if  I  keep  you  out  any  longer." 

Going  home,  she  was  like  the  Belle  whom  Geor- 
gina had  always  known — so  different  from  the  one 
lifting  the  veil  of  memories  for  the  little  while  they 
sat  in  the  pavilion. 

Georgina  had  thought  that  with  no  Barby  to  "but- 
ton her  eyes  shut  with  a  kiss"  at  the  end  of  her  birth- 
day, the  going-to-sleep  time  would  be  sad.  But  she 
was  so  busy  recalling  the  events  of  the  day  that  she 
never  thought  of  the  omitted  ceremony.  For  a  long 
time  she  lay  awake,  imagining  all  sorts  of  beautiful 
scenes  in  which  she  was  the  heroine. 

First,  she  went  back  to  what  Uncle  Darcy  had 


Moving  Pictures  117 

told  her,  and  imagined  herself  as  rescuing  an  only 
child  who  was  drowning.  The  whole  town  stood  by 
and  cheered  when  she  came  up  with  it,  dripping,  and 
the  mother  took  her  in  her  arms  and  said,  "You  are 
our  prism,  Georgina  Huntingdon!  But  for  your 
noble  act  our  lives  would  be,  indeed,  desolate.  It 
is  you  who  have  filled  them  with  rainbows." 

Then  she  was  in  a  ship  crossing  the  ocean,  and  a 
poor  sailor  hearing  her  speak  of  Cape  Cod  would 
come  and  ask  her  to  tell  him  of  its  people,  and  she 
would  find  he  was  Danny.  She  would  be  the  means 
of  restoring  him  to  his  parents. 

And  then,  she  and  Richard  on  some  of  their  treas- 
ure-hunting expeditions  which  they  were  still  plan- 
ning every  time  they  met,  would  unearth  a  casket 
some  dark  night  by  the  light  of  a  fitful  lantern,  and 
inside  would  be  a  confession  written  by  the  man  who 
had  really  stolen  the  money,  saying  that  Dan  Darcy 
was  innocent.  And  Uncle  Darcy  and  Aunt  Elspeth 

would  be  so  heavenly  glad The  tears  came  to 

Georgina's  eyes  as  she  pictured  the  scene  in  the  little 
house  in  Fishburn  Court,  it  came  to  her  so  vividly. 

The  clock  downstairs  struck  twelve,  but  still  she 
went  on  with  the  pleasing  pictures  moving  through 
her  mind  as  they  had  moved  across  the  films  earlier 
in  the  evening.  The  last  one  was  a  combination  of 
what  she  had  seen  there  and  what  Belle  had  told 
her. 

She  was  sitting  beside  a  silver  sea  across  which 


1 18         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

a  silver  moon  was  making  a  wonderful  shining  path 
of  silver  ripples,  and  somebody  was  telling  her — 
what  Emmett  had  told  Belle  ten  years  ago.  And  she 
knew  past  all  doubting  that  if  that  shadowy  some- 
body beside  her  should  die,  she  would  carry  the  mem- 
ory of  him  to  her  grave  as  Belle  was  doing.  It 
seemed  such  a  sweet,  sad  way  to  live  that  she  thought 
it  would  be  more  interesting  to  have  her  life  like  that, 
than  to  have  it  go  along  like  the  lives  of  all  the  mar- 
ried people  of  her  acquaintance.  'And  if  he  had  a 
father  like  Emmett's  father  she  would  cling  to  him 
as  Belle  did,  and  go  to  see  him  often  and  take  the 
part  of  a  real  daughter  to  him.  But  she  wouldn't 
want  him  to  be  like  Belle's  "Father  Potter."  He  was 
an  old  fisherman,  too  crippled  to  follow  the  sea  any 
longer,  so  now  he  was  just  a  mender  of  nets,  sitting 
all  day  knotting  twine  with  dirty  tar-blackened  fin- 
gers. 

The  next  morning  when  she  went  downstairs  it 
was  Belle  and  not  Mrs.  Triplett  who  was  stepping 
about  the  kitchen  in  a  big  gingham  apron,  preparing 
breakfast.  Mrs.  Triplett  was  still  in  bed.  Such  a 
thing  had  never  happened  before  within  Georgina's 
recollection. 

"It's  the  rheumatism  in  her  back,"  Belle  reported. 
"It's  so  bad  she  can't  lie  still  with  any  comfort,  and 
she  can't  move  without  groaning.  So  she's  sort  of 
'between  the  de'il  and  the  deep  sea.'  And  touchy  is 
no  name  for  it.  She  doesn't  like  it  if  you  don't  and 


Moving  Pictures  119 

she  doesn't  like  it  if  you  do;  but  you  can't  wonder 
when  the  pain's  so  bad.  It's  pretty  near  lumbago." 

Georgina,  who  had  finished  her  dressing  by  tying 
the  prism  around  her  neck,  was  still  burning  with  the 
desire  which  Uncle  Darcy's  talk  had  kindled  within 
her,  to  be  a  little  comfort  to  everybody. 

"Let  me  take  her  toast  and  tea  up  to  her,"  she 
begged.  With  that  toast  and  tea  she  intended  to 
pass  along  the  good  word  Uncle  Darcy  had  given 
her — "the  line  to  live  by."  But  Tippy  was  in  no 
humor  to  be  adjured  by  a  chit  of  a  child  to  bear  up 
and  steer  right  onward.  Such  advice  would  have 
been  coldly  received  just  then  even  from  her  minister. 

"You  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  she 
exclaimed  testily.  "Bear  up?  Of  course  I'll  bear 
up.  There's  nothing  else  to  do  with  rheumatism,  but 
you  needn't  come  around  with  any  talk  of  putting 
rainbows  around  it  or  me  either." 

She  gave  her  pillow  an  impatient  thump  with  her 
hard  knuckles. 

"Deliver  me  from  people  who  make  it  their  busi- 
ness in  life  always  to  act  cheerful  no  matter  what. 
The  Scripture  itself  says  'There's  a  time  to  laugh 
and  a  time  to  weep,  a  time  to  mourn  and  a  time  to 
dance.'  When  the  weeping  time  comes  I  can't  abide 
either  people  or  books  that  go  around  spreading 
cheerful  sayings  on  everybody  like  salve!" 

Tippy,  lying  there  with  her  hair  screwed  into  a 
tight  little  button  on  the  top  of  her  head,  looked 


12O         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

strangely  unlike  herself.  Georgina  descended  to  the 
kitchen,  much  offended.  It  hurt  her  feelings  to  have 
her  good  offices  spurned  in  such  a  way.  She  didn't 
care  how  bad  anybody's  rheumatism  was  she  mut- 
tered. "It  was  no  excuse  for  saying  such  nasty  things 
to  people  who  were  trying  to  be  kind  to  them." 

Belle  suggested  presently  that  the  customary  piano 
practice  be  omitted  that  morning  for  fear  it  might 
disturb  Aunt  Maria,  so  when  the  usual  little  tasks 
were  done  Georgina  would  have  found  time  drag- 
ging, had  it  not  been  for  the  night  letter  which  a 
messenger  boy  brought  soon  after  breakfast.  Grand- 
father Shirley  was  better  than  she  had  expected  to 
find  him,  Barby  wired.  Particulars  would  follow 
soon  in  a  letter.  It  cheered  Georgina  up  so  much 
that  she  took  a  pencil  and  tablet  of  paper  up  into  the 
willow  tree  and  wrote  a  long  account  to  her  mother 
of  the  birthday  happenings.  What  with  the  red- 
candled  cake  and  the  picture  show  and  the  afternoon 
in  the  boat  it  sounded  as  if  she  had  had  a  very  happy 
day.  But  mostly  she  wrote  about  the  prism,  and  what 
Uncle  Darcy  had  told  her  about  the  magic  glass  of 
Hope.  When  it  was  done  she  went  in  to  Belle. 

"May  I  go  down  to  the  post-office  to  mail  this  and 
stop  on  my  way  back  at  the  Green  Stairs  and  see  if 
Richard  can  come  and  play  with  me?"  she  asked. 

Belle  considered.  "Better  stay  down  at  the  Mil- 
ford's  to  do  your  playing,"  she  answered.  "It  might 


Moving  Pictures  121 

bother  Aunt  Maria  to  have  a  boy  romping  around 
here." 

So  Georgina  fared  forth,  after  taking  off  her  prism 
and  hanging  it  in  a  safe  place.  Only  Captain  Kid'l 
frisked  down  to  meet  her  when  she  stood  under  the 
studio  window  and  gave  the  alley  yodel  which  Rich- 
ard had  taught  her.  There  was  no  answer.  She  re- 
peated it  several  times,  and  then  Mr.  Moreland  ap- 
peared at  the  window,  in  his  artist's  smock  with  a  pal- 
ette on  his  thumb  and  a  decidedly  impatient  expres- 
sion on  his  handsome  face.  Richard  was  posing,  he 
told  her,  and  couldn't  leave  for  half  an  hour.  His 
tone  was  impatient,  too,  for  he  had  just  gotten  a 
good  start  after  many  interruptions. 

Undecided  whether  to  go  back  home  or  sit  down 
on  the  sand  and  wait,  Georgina  stood  looking  idly 
about  her.  And  while  she  hesitated,  Manuel  and 
Joseph  and  Rosa  came  straggling  along  the  beach  in 
search  of  adventure. 

It  came  to  Georgina  like  an  inspiration  that  it 
wasn't  Barby  who  had  forbidden  her  to  play  with 
them,  it  was  Tippy.  And  with  a  vague  feeling  that 
she  was  justified  in  disobeying  her  because  of  her 
recent  crossness,  she  rou.ided  them  up  for  a  chase 
over  the  granite  slabs  of  the  breakwater.  If  they 
would  be  Indians,  she  proposed,  she'd  be  the  Deer- 
slayer,  like  the  hero  of  the  Leather-Stocking  Tales, 
and  chase  'em  with  a  gun. 


122         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

They  had  never  heard  of  those  tales,  but  they  were 
more  than  willing  to  undertake  any  game  which  Geor- 
gina might  propose.  So  after  a  little  coaching 
in  war-whoops,  with  a  battered  tin  pan  for  a  tom-tom, 
three  impromptu  Indians  sped  down  the  beach  under 
the  studio  windows,  pursued  by  a  swift-footed  Deer- 
slayer  with  flying  curls.  The  end  of  a  broken  oar 
was  her  musket,  which  she  brandished  fiercely  as  she 
echoed  their  yells. 

Mr.  Moreland  gave  a  groan  of  despair  as  he 
looked  at  his  model  when  those  war-whoops  broke 
loose.  Richard,  who  had  succeeded  after  many  trials 
in  lapsing  into  the  dreamy  attitude  which  his  father 
wanted,  started  up  at  the  first  whoop,  so  alert  and 
interested  that  his  nostrils  quivered.  He  scented  ex- 
citement of  some  kind  and  was  so  eager  to  be  in  the 
midst  of  it  that  the  noise  of  the  tom-tom  made  him 
wriggle  in  his  chair. 

He  looked  at  his  father  appealingly,  then  made 
an  effort  to  settle  down  into  his  former  attitude.  His 
body  assumed  the  same  listless  pose  as  before,  but 
his  eyes  were  so  eager  and  shining  with  interest  that 
they  fairly  spoke  each  time  the  rattly  drumming  on 
the  tin  pan  sounded  a  challenge. 

"It's  no  use,  Dicky,"  said  his  father  at  last.  "It's 
all  up  with  us  for  this  time.  You  might  as  well  go 
on.  But  I  wish  that  little  torn-boy  had  stayed  at 
home." 

And  Richard  went,  with  a  yell  and  a  hand-spring, 


Moving  Pictures 


123 


to  throw  in  his  lot  with  Manuel  and  Joseph  and  be 
chased  by  the  doughty  Deer-slayer  and  her  hound. 
In  the  readjustment  of  parts  Rosa  was  told  to  answer 
to  the  name  of  Hector.  It  was  all  one  to  Rosa 
whether  she  was  hound  or  redskin,  so  long  as  she 
was  allowed  a  part  in  the  thrilling  new  game.  Rich- 
ard had  the  promise  of  being  Deer-slayer  next  time 
they  played  it. 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE   OLD   RIFLE   GIVES    UP   ITS   SECRET 

/"~\UT  of  that  game  with  forbidden  playmates,  grew 
^^  events  which  changed  the  lives  of  several  peo- 
ple. It  began  by  Richard's  deciding  that  a  real  gun 
was  necessary  for  his  equipment  if  he  was  to  play 
the  part  of  Leather-Stocking  properly.  Also,  he 
argued,  it  would  be  a  valuable  addition  to  their  stock 
of  fire-arms.  The  broken  old  horse-pistols  were 
good  enough  to  play  at  pirating  with,  but  something 
which  would  really  shoot  was  needed  when  they 
started  out  in  earnest  on  a  sure-enough  adventure. 

Georgina  suggested  that  he  go  to  Fishburn  Court 
and  borrow  a  rifle  that  she  had  seen  up  in  Uncle 
Darcy's  attic.  She  would  go  with  him  and  do  the 
asking,  she  added,  but  Belle  had  promised  to  take 
her  with  her  the  next  time  she  went  to  see  the  net- 
mender,  and  the  next  time  would  be  the  following 
afternoon,  if  Tippy  was  well  enough  to  be  up  and 
around.  Georgina  couldn't  miss  the  chance  to  see 
inside  the  cottage  that  had  been  the  home  of  a  hero 
and  Belle's  drowned  lover.  She  wanted  to  see  the 
newspaper  which  Mr.  Potter  showed  everybody  who 
went  to  the  house.  It  had  an  account  of  the  wreck 

124 


The  Old  Rifle  Gives  Up  Its  Secret    125 

and  the  rescue  in  it,  with  Emmett's  picture  on  the 
front  page,  and  black  headlines  under  it  that  said, 
"Died  like  a  hero." 

Tippy  was  well  enough  to  be  up  next  day,  so 
Richard  went  alone  to  Fishburn  Court,  and  Geor- 
gina  trudged  along  the  sandy  road  with  Belle  to  the 
weather-beaten  cottage  on  the  edge  of  the  cranberry 
bog.  Belle  told  her  more  about  the  old  man  as  they 
walked  along. 

"Seems  as  if  he  just  lives  on  that  memory.  He 
can't  get  out  in  the  boats  any  more,  being  so  crippled 
up,  and  he  can't  see  to  read  much,  so  there's  lots  of 
time  for  him  to  sit  and  think  on  the  past.  If  it 
wasn't  for  the  nets  he'd  about  lose  his  mind.  I 
wouldn't  say  it  out,  and  you  needn't  repeat  it,  but 
sometimes  I  think  it's  already  touched  a  mite.  You 
see  the  two  of  them  lived  there  together  so  long 
alone,  that  Emmett  was  all  in  all  to  his  father.  I 
suppose  that's  why  Emmett  is  all  he  can  talk  about 
now." 

When  they  reached  the  cottage  Mr.  Potter  was 
sitting  out  in  front  as  usual,  busy  with  his  work. 
Georgina  was  glad  that  he  did  not  offer  to  shake 
hands.  His  were  so  dirty  and  black  with  tar  she  felt 
she  could  not  bear  to  touch  them.  He  was  a  swarthy 
old  man  with  skin  like  wrinkled  leather,  and  a  bushy, 
grizzled  beard  which  grew  up  nearly  to  his  eyes. 
Again  Georgina  wondered,  looking  at  Belle  in  her 
crisp,  white  dress  and  white  shoes.  How  could  she 


126         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

care  for  this  unkempt  old  creature  enough  to  call  him 
Father? 

As  she  followed  Belle  around  inside  the  dreary 
three-room  cottage  she  wanted  to  ask  if  this  would 
have  been  her  home  if  Emmett  had  not  been 
drowned,  but  she  felt  a  delicacy  about  asking  such 
a  question.  She  couldn't  imagine  Belle  in  such  a 
setting,  but  after  she  had  followed  her  around  a 
while  longer  she  realized  that  the  house  wouldn't 
stay  dreary  with  such  a  mistress.  In  almost  no  time 
the  place  was  put  to  rights,  and  there  was  a  pan  of 
cookies  ready  to  slip  into  the  oven. 

When  the  smell  of  their  browning  stole  out  to 
the  front  door  the  old  man  left  his  bench  and  came 
in  to  get  a  handful  of  the  hot  cakes.  Then,  just  as 
Belle  said  he  would,  he  told  Georgina  all  that  had 
happened  the  night  of  the  wreck. 

"That's  the  very  chair  he  was  sittin'  in,  when  Luke 
Jones  come  in  with  the  word  that  men  were  needed. 
He  started  right  off  with  Luke  soon  as  he  could  get 
into  his  oil-skins,  for  'twas  stormin'  to  beat  the  band. 
But  he  didn't  go  fur.  Almost  no  time  it  seemed  like, 
he  was  comin'  into  the  house  agin,  and  he  went  into 
that  bedroom  there,  and  shet  the  door  behind  him. 
That  of  itself  ought  to  'uv  made  me  know  something 
out  of  the  usual  was  beginnin'  to  happen,  for  he  never 
done  such  a  thing  before.  A  few  minutes  later  he 
came  out  with  an  old  rifle  that  him  and  Dan  Darcy 


The  Old  Rifle  Gives  Up  Its  Secret    127 

used  to  carry  around  in  the  dunes  for  target  shootin' 
and  he  set  it  right  down  in  that  corner  by  the  chim- 
ney jamb. 

"  'First  time  anybody  passes  this  way  goin'  down 
to  Fishburn  Court,'  he  says,  'I  wish  you'd  send  this 
along  to  Uncle  Dan'l.  It's  his  by  rights,  and  he'd 
ought  a  had  it  long  ago.' 

"An'  them  was  his  last  words  to  me,  except  as  he 
pulled  the  door  to  after  him  he  called  'Good-bye  Pop, 
if  I  don't  see  you  agin.' 

"I  don't  know  when  he'd  done  such  a  thing  before 
as  to  say  good-bye  when  he  went  out,  and  I've  often 
wondered  over  it  sence,  could  he  'a  had  any  warnin' 
that  something  was  goin'  to  happen  to  him?" 

Georgina  gazed  at  the  picture  in  the  newspaper 
long  and  curiously.  It  had  been  copied  from  a  faded 
tin-type,  but  even  making  allowances  for  that  Em- 
mett  didn't  look  as  she  imagined  a  hero  should,  nor 
did  it  seem  possible  it  could  be  the  man  Belle  had 
talked  about.  She  wished  she  hadn't  seen  it.  It 
dimmed  the  glamor  of  romance  which  seemed  to  sur- 
round him  like  a  halo.  Hearing  about  him  in  the 
magical  moonlight  she  had  pictured  him  as  looking 
as  Sir  Galahad.  But  if  this  was  what  he  really  looked 

like Again  she  glanced  wonderingly  at  Belle. 

How  could  she  care  so  hard  for  ten  long  years  for 
just  an  ordinary  man  like  that? 

When  it  was  time  to  go  home  Belle  suggested  that 


128         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

they  walk  around  by  Fishburn  Court.  It  would  be 
out  of  their  wa/,  but  she  had  heard  that  Aunt  Elspeth 
wasn't  as  well  as  usual. 

"Emmett  always  called  her  Aunt,"  she  explained 
to  Georgina  as  they  walked  along,  "so  I  got  into  the 
way  of  doing  it,  too.  He  was  so  fond  of  Dan's 
mother.  She  was  so  good  to  him  after  his  own  went 
that  I  feel  I  want  to  be  nice  to  her  whenever  I  can, 
for  his  sake." 

"You  know,"  she  continued,  "Aunt  Elspeth  never 
would  give  up  but  that  Dan  was  innocent,  and  since 
her  memory's  been  failing  her  this  last  year,  she  talks 
all  the  time  about  his  coming  home ;  just  lies  there  in 
bed  half  her  time  and  babbles  about  him.  It  almost 
kills  Uncle  Dan'l  to  hear  her,  because,  of  course,  he 
knows  the  truth  of  the  matter,  that  Dan  was  guilty. 
He  as  good  as  confessed  it  before  he  ran  away,  and 
the  running  away  itself  told  the  story." 

When  they  reached  Fishburn  Court  they  could  see 
two  people  sitting  in  front  of  the  cottage.  Uncle 
Darcy  was  in  an  armchair  on  the  grass  with  one  of 
the  cats  in  his  lap,  and  Richard  sat  on  one  seat  of  the 
red,  wooden  swing  with  Captain  Kidd  on  the  oppo- 
site one.  Richard  had  a  rifle  across  his  knees,  the 
one  Georgina  had  suggested  borrowing.  He  passed 
his  hand  caressingly  along  its  stock  now  and  then, 
and  at  intervals  raised  it  to  sight  along  the  barrel. 
It  was  so  heavy  he  could  not  keep  it  from  wobbling 
when  he  raised  it  to  take  aim  in  various  directions. 


The  Old  Rifle  Gives  Up  Its  Secret    1 29 

At  the  click  of  the  gate-latch  the  old  man  tumbled 
Yellownose  out  of  his  lap  and  rose  stiffly  to  welcome 
his  guests. 

"Come  right  in,"  he  said  cordially.  "Mother'll  be 
glad  to  see  you,  Belle.  She's  been  sort  of  low  in  her 
mind  lately,  and  needs  cheering  up." 

He  led  the  way  into  a  low-ceilinged,  inner  bedroom 
with  the  shades  all  pulled  down.  It  was  so  dark, 
compared  to  the  glaring  road  they  had  been  follow- 
ing, that  Georgina  blinked  at  the  dim  interior.  She 
could  scarcely  make  out  the  figure  on  the  high-posted 
bed,  and  drew  back,  whispering  to  Belle  that  she'd 
stay  outside  until  they  were  ready  to  go  home.  Leav- 
ing them  on  the  threshold,  she  went  back  to  the  shady 
door-yard  to  a  seat  in  the  swing  beside  Captain 
Kidd. 

"It's  Uncle  Darcy's  son's  rifle,"  explained  Rich- 
ard. "He's  been  telling  me  about  him.  Feel  how 
smooth  the  stock  is." 

Georgina  reached  over  and  passed  her  hand  lightly 
along  the  polished  wood. 

"He  and  a  friend  of  his  called  Emmett  Potter 
used  to  carry  it  on  the  dunes  sometimes  to  shoot  at 
a  mark  with.  It  wasn't  good  for  much  else,  it's  so 
old.  Dan  got  it  in  a  trade  once;  traded  a  whole  lit- 
ter of  collie  pups  for  it.  Uncle  Darcy  says  he'd  for- 
gotten there  was  such  a  gun  till  somebody  brought  it 
to  him  after  Emmett  was  drowned." 

"Oh,"  interrupted  Georgina,  her  eyes  wide  with 


130         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

interest.  "Emmett's  father  has  just  been  telling  me 
about  this  very  rifle.  But  I  didn't  dream  it  was  the 
one  I'd  seen  up  in  the  attic  here.  He  showed  me  the 
corner  where  Emmett  stood  it  when  he  left  for  the 
wreck,  and  told  what  was  to  be  done  with  it.  'Them 
were  his  last  words,'  "  she  added,  quoting  Mr.  Pot- 
ter. 

She  reached  out  her  hand  for  the  clumsy  old  fire- 
arm and  almost  dropped  it,  finding  it  so  much  heavier 
than  she  expected.  She  wanted  to  touch  with  her 
own  fingers  the  weapon  that  had  such  an  interesting 
history,  and  about  which  a  hero  had  spoken  his  last 
words. 

"The  hammer's  broken,"  continued  Richard. 
"Whoever  brought  it  home  let  it  fall.  It's  all  rusty, 
too,  because  it  was  up  in  the  attic  so  many  years  and 
the  roof  leaked  on  it.  But  Uncle  Darcy  said  lots  of 
museums  would  be  glad  to  have  it  because  there 
aren't  many  of  these  old  flint-locks  left  now.  He's 
going  to  leave  it  to  the  Pilgrim  museum  up  by  the 
monument  when  he's  dead  and  gone,  but  he  wants  to 
keep  it  as  long  as  he  lives  because  Danny  set  such 
store  by  it." 

"There's  some  numbers  or  letters  or  something 
on  it,"  announced  Georgina,  peering  at  a  small  brass 
plate  on  the  stock.  "I  can't  make  them  out.  I  tell 
you  what  let's  do,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  burst  of  en- 
thusiasm. "Let's  polish  it  up  so's  we  can  read  them. 


The  Old  Rifle  Gives  Up  Its  Secret    131 

Tippy  uses  vinegar  and  wood  ashes  for  brass.  I'll 
run  get  some." 

Georgina  was  enough  at  home  here  to  find  what 
she  wanted  without  asking,  and  as  full  of  resources 
as  Robinson  Crusoe.  She  was  back  in  a  very  few 
minutes  with  a  shovel  full  of  ashes  from  the  kitchen 
stove,  and  an  old  can  lid  full  of  vinegar,  drawn  from 
a  jug  in  the  corner  cupboard.  With  a  scrap  of  a 
rag  dipped  first  in  vinegar,  then  in  ashes,  she  began 
scrubbing  the  brass  plate  diligently.  It  had  corroded 
until  there  was  an  edge  of  green  entirely  around  it. 

"I  love  to  take  an  old  thing  like  this  and  scrub 
it  till  it  shines  like  gold,"  she  said,  scouring  away 
with  such  evident  enjoyment  of  the  job  that  Richard 
insisted  on  having  a  turn.  She  surrendered  the  rag 
grudgingly,  but  continued  to  direct  operations. 

"Now  dip  it  in  the  ashes  again.  No,  not  that  way, 
double  the  rag  up  and  use  more  vinegar.  Rub  around 
that  other  corner  a  while.  Here,  let  me  show  you." 

She  took  the  rifle  away  from  him  again  and  pro- 
ceeded to  illustrate  her  advice.  Suddenly  she  looked 
up,  startled. 

"I  believe  we've  rubbed  it  loose.  It  moved  a  little 
to  one  side.  See?" 

He  grabbed  it  back  and  examined  it  closely.  UI 
bet  it's  meant  to  move,"  he  said  finally.  "It  looks 
like  a  lid,  see !  It  slides  sideways." 

"Oh,  I  remember  now,"  she  cried,  much  excited. 


132         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"That's  the  way  Leather-Stocking's  rifle  was  made. 
There  was  a  hole  in  the  stock  with  a  brass  plate  over 
it,  and  he  kept  little  pieces  of  oiled  deer-skin  inside 
of  it  to  wrap  bullets  in  before  he  loaded  'em  in.  I 
remember  just  as  plain,  the  place  in  the  story  where 
he  stopped  to  open  it  and  take  out  a  piece  of  oiled 
deer-skin  when  he  started  to  load." 

As  she  explained  she  snatched  the  rifle  back  into 
her  own  hands  once  more,  and  pried  at  the  brass 
plate  until  she  broke  the  edge  of  her  thumb  nail. 
Then  Richard  took  it,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  rusty 
button-hook  which  he  happened  to  have  in  his  pocket, 
having  found  it  on  the  street  that  morning,  he  pushed 
the  plate  entirely  back. 

"There's  something  white  inside!"  he  exclaimed. 

Instantly  two  heads  bent  over  with  his  in  an  at- 
tempt to  see,  for  Captain  Kidd's  shaggy  hair  was  side 
by  side  with  Georgina's  curls,  his  curiosity  as  great 
as  hers. 

"Whatever's  in  there  has  been  there  an  awful  long 
time,"  said  Richard  as  he  poked  at  the  contents  with 
his  button-hook,  "for  Uncle  Darcy  said  the  rifle's 
never  been  used  since  it  was  brought  back  to  him." 

"And  it's  ten  years  come  Michaelmas  since  Em- 
mett  was  drowned,"  said  Georgina,  again  quoting  the 
old  net-mender. 

The  piece  of  paper  which  they  finally  succeeded  in 
drawing  out  had  been  folded  many  times  and 


The  Old  Rifle  Gives  Up  Its  Secret    133 

crumpled  into  a  flat  wad.  Evidently  the  message  on 
it  had  been  scrawled  hastily  in  pencil  by  someone  little 
used  to  letter  writing.  It  was  written  in  an  odd 
hand,  and  the  united  efforts  of  the  two  little  readers 
could  decipher  only  parts  of  it. 

"I  can  read  any  kind  of  plain  writing  like  they  do 
in  school,"  said  Richard,  "but  not  this  sharp-cornered 
kind  where  the  m's  and  u's  are  alike,  and  all  the  tails 
are  pointed." 

Slowly  they  puzzled  out  parts  of  it,  halting  long 
over  some  of  the  undecipherable  words,  but  a  few 
words  here  and  there  were  all  they  could  recognize. 
There  were  long  stretches  that  had  no  meaning  what- 
ever for  them.  This  much,  however,  they  managed 
to  spell  out : 

"Dan  never  took  the  money.  ...  I  did  it.  ... 
He  went  away  because  he  knew  I  did  it  and  wouldn't 
tell. .  .  .  Sorry. .  .  .  Can't  stand  it  any  longer.  .  .  . 
Put  an  end  to  it  all.  .  .  ." 

It  was  signed  "Emmett  Potter." 

The  two  children  looked  at  each  other  with  puz- 
zled eyes  until  into  Georgina's  came  a  sudden  and 
startled  understanding.  Snatching  up  the  paper  she 
almost  fell  out  of  the  swing  and  ran  towards  the 
house  screaming: 

"Uncle  Darcy!  Uncle  Darcy !  Look  what  we've 
found." 

She  tripped  over  a  piece  of  loose  carpet  spread 


134         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

just  inside  the  front  door  as  a  rug  and  fell  full  length, 
but  too  excited  to  know  that  she  had  skinned  her 
elbow  she  scrambled  up,  still  calling : 

"Uncle  Darcy,  Dan  never  took  the  money.    It  was 
Emmett  Potter.    He  said  so  himself!" 


CHAPTER    XII 

A    HARD   PROMISE 

A  DOZEN  times  in  Georgina's  day-dreaming  she 
•**•  had  imagined  this  scene.  She  had  run  to  Uncle 
Darcy  with  the  proof  of  Dan's  innocence,  heard  his 
glad  cry,  seen  his  face  fairly  transfigured  as  he  read 
the  confession  aloud.  Now  it  was  actually  happen- 
ing before  her  very  eyes,  but  where  was  the  scene 
of  heavenly  gladness  that  should  have  followed? 

Belle,  startled  even  more  than  he  by  Georgina's 
outcry,  and  quicker  to  act,  read  the  message  over  his 
shoulder,  recognized  the  handwriting  and  grasped 
the  full  significance  of  the  situation  before  he  reached 
the  name  at  the  end.  For  ten  years  three  little  notes 
in  that  same  peculiar  hand  had  lain  in  her  box  of 
keepsakes.  There  was  no  mistaking  that  signature. 
She  had  read  it  and  cried  over  it  so  many  times  that 
now  as  it  suddenly  confronted  her  with  its  familiar 
twists  and  angles  it  was  as  startling  as  if  Emmett's 
voice  had  called  to  her. 

As  Uncle  Darcy  looked  up  from  the  sec?nd  read- 
ing, with  a  faltering  exclamation  of  thanksgiving,  she 
snatched  the  paper  from  his  shaking  hands  and  tore 
it  in  two.  Then  crumpling  the  pieces  and  flinging 
them  from  her,  she  seized  him  by  the  wrists. 

"No,  you're  not  going  to  tell  the  whole  world," 
she  cried  wildly,  answering  the  announcement  he 

i35 


136         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

made  with  the  tears  raining  down  his  cheeks. 
"You're  not  going  to  tell  anybody!  Think  of  me! 
Think  of  Father  Potter!" 

She  almost  screamed  her  demand.  He  could 
hardly  believe  it  was  Belle,  this  frenzied  girl,  who, 
heretofore,  had  seemed  the  gentlest  of  souls.  He 
looked  at  her  in  a  dazed  way,  so  overwhelmed  by 
the  discovery  that  had  just  been  made,  that  he  failed 
to  comprehend  the  reason  for  her  white  face  and 
agonized  eyes,  till  she  threw  up  her  arms  crying: 

"Emmett  a  thief !    God  in  heaven !    It'll  kill  me !" 

It  was  the  sight  of  Georgina's  shocked  face  with 
Richard's  at  the  door,  that  made  things  clear  to  the 
old  man.  He  waved  them  away,  with  hands  which 
shook  as  if  he  had  the  palsy. 

"Go  on  out,  children,  for  a  little  while,"  he  said 
gently,  and  closed  the  door  in  their  faces. 

Slowly  they  retreated  to  the  swing,  Georgina  clasp- 
ing the  skinned  elbow  which  had  begun  to  smart. 
She  climbed  into  one  seat  of  the  swing  and  Richard 
and  Captain  Kidd  took  the  other.  As  they  swung 
back  and  forth  she  demanded  in  a  whisper: 

"Why  is  it  that  grown  people  always  shut  children 
out  of  their  secrets?  Seems  as  if  we  have  a  right  to 
know  what's  the  matter  when  we  found  the  paper." 

Richard  made  no  answer,  for  just  then  the  sound 
of  Belle's  crying  came  out  to  them.  The  windows  of 
the  cottage  were  all  open  and  the  grass  plot  between 


A  Hard  Promise  137 

the  windows  and  the  swing  being  a  narrow  one  the 
closed  door  was  of  little  avail.  It  was  very  still 
there  in  the  shady  dooryard,  so  still  that  they  could 
hear  old  Yellownose  purr,  asleep  on  the  cushion  in 
the  wooden  arm-chair  beside  the  swing.  The  broken 
sentences  between  the  sobs  were  plainly  audible.  It 
seemed  so  terrible  to  hear  a  grown  person  cry,  that 
Georgina  felt  as  she  did  that  morning  long  ago,  when 
old  Jeremy's  teeth  flew  into  the  fire.  Her  confidence 
was  shaken  in  the  world.  She  felt  there  could  be 
no  abiding  happiness  in  anything. 

"She's  begging  him  not  to  tell,"  whispered  Rich- 
ard. 

"But  I  owe  it  to  Danny,"  they  heard  Uncle  Darcy 
say.  And  then,  "Why  should  I  spare  Emmett's 
father?  Emmett  never  spared  me,  he  never  spared 
Danny." 

An  indistinct  murmur  as  if  Belle's  answer  was 
muffled  in  her  handkerchief,  then  Uncle  Darcy's 
voice  again: 

"It  isn't  fair  that  the  town  should  go  on  counting 
him  a  hero  and  brand  my  boy  as  a  coward,  when  it's 
Emmett  who  was  the  coward  as  well  as  the  thief." 

Again  Belle's  voice  in  a  quick  cry  of  pain,  as  sharp 
as  if  she  had  been  struck.  Then  the  sound  of  an- 
other door  shutting,  and  when  the  voices  began  again 
it  was  evident  they  had  withdrawn  into  the  kitchen. 

"They  don't  want  Aunt  Elspeth  to  hear,"  said 
Georgina. 


138         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"What's  it  all  about?"  asked  Richard,  much  mys- 
tified. 

Georgina  told  him  all  that  she  knew  herself,  gath- 
ered from  the  scraps  she  had  heard  the  day  of  Cousin 
Mehitable's  visit,  and  from  various  sources  since ; 
told  him  in  a  half  whisper  stopping  now  and  then 
when  some  fragment  of  a  sentence  floated  out  to  them 
from  the  kitchen;  for  occasional  words  still  contin- 
ued to  reach  them  through  the  windows  in  the  rear, 
when  the  voices  rose  at  intervals  to  a  higher  pitch. 

What  passed  behind  those  closed  doors  the  chil- 
dren never  knew.  They  felt  rather  than  understood 
what  was  happening.  Belle's  pleading  was  begin- 
ning to  be  effectual,  and  the  old  man  was  rising  to 
the  same  heights  of  self-sacrifice  which  Dan  had 
reached,  when  he  slipped  away  from  home  with  the 
taint  of  his  friend's  disgrace  upon  him  in  order  to 
save  that  friend. 

That  some  soul  tragedy  had  been  enacted  in  that 
little  room  the  children  felt  vaguely  when  Belle  came 
out  after  a  while.  Her  eyes  were  red  and  swollen 
and  her  face  drawn  and  pinched  looking.  She  did 
not  glance  in  their  direction,  but  stood  with  her  face 
averted  and  hand  on  the  gate-latch  while  Uncle 
Darcy  stopped  beside  the  swing. 

"Children,"  he  said  solemnly,  "I  want  you  to 
promise  me  never  to  speak  to  anyone  about  finding 
that  note  in  the  old  rifle  till  I  give  you  permission. 


A  Hard  Promise  139 

Will  you  do  this  for  me,  just  because  I  ask  it,  even  if 
I  can't  tell  you  why?" 

"Mustn't  I  even  tell  Barby?"  asked  Georgina, 
anxiously. 

He  hesitated,  glancing  uncertainly  at  Belle,  then 
answered: 

"No,  not  even  your  mother,  till  I  tell  you  that  you 
can.  Now  you  see  what  a  very  important  secret  it  is. 
Can  you  keep  it,  son?  Will  you  promise  me  too?" 

He  turned  to  Richard  with  the  question.  With  a 
finger  under  the  boy's  chin  he  tipped  up  his  face  and 
looked  into  it  searchingly.  The  serious,  brown  eyes 
looked  back  into  his,  honest  and  unflinching. 

"Yes,  I  promise,"  he  answered.  "Honor  bright 
I'll  not  tell." 

The  old  man  turned  to  the  waiting  figure  at  the- 
gate. 

"It's  all  right,  Belle.  You  needn't  worry  about  it 
any  more.  You  can  trust  us." 

She  made  no  answer,  but  looking  as  if  she  had 
aged  years  in  the  last  half  hour,  she  passed  through 
the  gate  and  into  the  sandy  court,  moving  slowly 
across  it  towards  the  street  beyond. 

With  a  long-drawn  sigh  the  old  man  sank  down 
on  the  door-step  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
They  were  still  shaking  as  if  he  had  the  palsy.  For 
some  time  the  children  sat  in  embarrassed  silence, 
thinking  every  moment  that  he  would  look  up  and  say 
something.  They  wanted  to  go,  but  waited  for  him 


140         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

to  make  some  movement.  He  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten they  were  there.  Finally  a  clock  inside  the 
cottage  began  striking  five.  It  broke  the  spell  which 
bound  them. 

"Let's  go,"  whispered  Richard. 

"All  right,"  was  the  answer,  also  whispered. 
"Wait  till  I  take  the  shovel  and  can  lid  back  to  the 
kitchen." 

"I'll  take  'em,"  he  offered.  "I  want  to  get  a  drink, 
anyhow." 

Stealthily,  as  if  playing  Indian,  they  stepped  out 
of  the  swing  and  tiptoed  through  the  grass  around 
the  corner  of  the  house.  Even  the  dog  went  noise- 
lessly, instead  of  frisking  and  barking  as  he  usually 
did  when  starting  anywhere.  Their  return  was 
equally  stealthy.  As  they  slipped  through  the  gate 
Georgina  looked  back  at  the  old  man.  He  was  still 
sitting  on  the  step,  his  face  in  his  hands,  as  if  he  were 
bowed  down  by  some  weight  too  heavy  for  his  shoul- 
ders to  bear. 

The  weary  hopelessness  of  his  attitude  made  her 
want  to  run  back  and  throw  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  but  she  did  not  dare.  Trouble  as  great  as  that 
seemed  to  raise  a  wall  around  itself.  It  could  not  be 
comforted  by  a  caress.  The  only  thing  to  do  was  to 
slip  past  and  not  look. 

Richard  shared  the  same  awe,  for  he  went  away 
leaving  the  rifle  lying  in  the  grass.  Instinctively  he 
felt  that  it  ought  not  to  be  played  with  now.  It  was 
the  rifle  which  had  changed  everything. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

LOST   AND   FOUND   AT   THE    LINIMENT   WAGON 

\\7 ITH  Mrs.  Triplett  back  in  bed  again  on  ac- 
**  count  of  the  rheumatism  which  crippled  her, 
and  Belle  going  about  white  of  face  and  sick  of  soul, 
home  held  little  cheer  for  Georgina.  But  with  Mrs. 
Triplett  averse  to  company  of  any  kind,  and  Belle 
anxious  to  be  alone  with  her  misery,  there  was  noth- 
ing to  hinder  Georgina  from  seeking  cheer  elsewhere 
and  she  sought  it  early  and  late. 

She  had  spent  her  birthday  dollar  in  imagination 
many  times  before  she  took  her  check  to  the  bank  to 
have  it  cashed.  With  Richard  to  lend  her  courage, 
and  Manuel,  Joseph  and  Rosa  trailing  after  by  spe- 
cial invitation,  she  walked  in  and  asked  for  Mr. 
Gates.  That  is  the  way  Barby  always  did,  and  as  far 
as  Georgina  knew  he  was  the  only  one  to  apply  to 
for  money. 

The  paying  teller  hesitated  a  moment  about  sum- 
moning the  president  of  the  bank  from  his  private 
office  at  the  behest  of  so  small  a  child,  so  small  that 
even  on  tiptoe  her  eyes  could  barely  peer  into  the 
window  of  his  cage.  But  they  were  entreating  eyes, 
so  big  and  brown  and  sure  of  their  appeal  that  he  de- 
cided to  do  their  bidding. 

141 


142         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Just  as  he  turned  to  knock  at  the  door  behind  him 
it  opened,  and  Mr.  Gates  came  out  with  the  man 
with  whom  he  had  been  closeted  in  private  confer- 
ence. It  was  Richard's  Cousin  James.  The  children 
did  not  see  him,  however,  for  he  stopped  at  one  of 
the  high  desks  inside  to  look  at  some  papers  which 
one  of  the  clerks  spread  out  before  him. 

"Oh,  it's  my  little  friend,  Georgina,"  said  Mr. 
Gates,  smiling  in  response  to  the  beaming  smile  she 
gave  him.  "Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you,  my  dear?" 

"Cash  my  check,  please,"  she  said,  pushing  the 
slip  of  paper  towards  him  with  as  grand  an  air  as  if 
it  had  been  for  a  million  dollars  instead  of  one,  "and 
all  in  nickels,  please." 

He  glanced  at  the  name  she  had  written  painstak- 
ingly across  the  back. 

"Well,  Miss  Huntingdon,"  he  exclaimed  gravely, 
although  there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  "if  all  lady 
customers  were  as  businesslike  in  endorsing  their 
checks  and  in  knowing  what  they  want,  we  bankers 
would  be  spared  a  lot  of  trouble." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Georgina  had  ever  been 
called  Miss  Huntingdon,  and  knowing  he  said  it  to 
tease  her,  it  embarrassed  her  to  the  point  of  making 
her  stammer,  when  he  asked  her  most  unexpectedly 
while  picking  out  twenty  shining  new  nickels  to  stuff 
into  the  little  red  purse : 

"All  of  these  going  to  buy  tracts  for  the  mission- 
aries to  take  to  the  little  heathen?" 


Lost  and  Found  at  the  Liniment  Wagon  143 

"No,  they're  all  going  to — to " 

She  didn't  like  to  say  for  soda  water  and  chew- 
ing gum  and  the  movies,  and  hesitated  till  a  substi- 
tute word  occurred  to  her. 

"They're  all  going  to  go  for  buying  good  times. 
It's  for  a  sort  of  a  club  we  made  up  this  morning, 
Richard  and  me." 

"May  I  ask  the  name  of  the  club?" 

Georgina  glanced  around.  No  other  customer 
happened  to  be  in  the  bank  at  the  moment  and  Rich- 
ard had  wandered  out  to  the  street  to  wait  for  her. 
So  tiptoeing  a  little  higher  she  said  in  a  low  tone  as 
if  imparting  a  secret: 

"It's  the  Rainbow  Club.  We  pretend  that  every- 
time  we  make  anybody  happy  we've  made  a  little 
rainbow  in  the  world." 

"Well,  bless  your  heart,"  was  the  appreciative 
answer.  "You've  already  made  one  in  here.  You 
do  that  every  time  you  come  around." 

Then  he  looked  thoughtfully  at  her  over  his  spec- 
tacles. 

"Would  you  take  an  old  fellow  like  me  into  your 
club?" 

Georgina  considered  a  moment,  first  stealing  a 
glance  at  him  to  see  if  he  were  in  earnest  or  still  try- 
ing to  tease.  He  seemed  quite  serious  so  she  an- 
swered: 

"If  you  really  want  to  belong.  Anybody  with  a 
bank  full  of  money  ought  to  be  able  to  make  happy 
times  for  the  whole  town." 


144         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Any  dues  to  pay?  What  are  the  rules  and  what 
are  the  duties  of  a  member?" 

Again  Georgina  was  embarrassed.  He  seemed  to 
expect  so  much  more  than  she  had  to  offer.  She 
swung  the  red  purse  around  nervously  as  she  an- 
swered : 

"I  guess  you  won't  think  it's  much  of  a  club. 
There's  nothing  to  it  but  just  its  name,  and  all  we  do 
is  just  to  go  around  making  what  it  says." 

"Count  me  as  Member  number  Three,"  said  Mr. 
Gates  gravely.  "I'm  proud  to  join  you.  Shake  hands 
on  it.  I'll  try  to  be  a  credit  to  the  organization,  and 
I  hope  you'll  drop  around  once  in  a  while  and  let 
me  know  how  it's  getting  along." 

The  beaming  smile  with  which  Georgina  shook 
hands  came  back  to  him  all  morning  at  intervals. 

Cousin  James  Milford,  who  had  been  an  interested 
listener,  followed  her  out  of  the  bank  presently  and 
as  he  drove  his  machine  slowly  past  the  drug-store 
he  saw  the  five  children  draining  their  glasses  at  the 
soda-water  fountain.  He  stopped,  thinking  to  in- 
vite Richard  and  Georgina  to  go  to  Truro  with  him. 
It  never  would  have  occurred  to  him  to  give  the  three 
little  Portuguese  children  a  ride  also  had  he  not 
overheard  that  conversation  in  the  bank. 

"Well,  why  not?"  he  asked  himself,  smiling  in- 
wardly. "It  might  as  well  be  rainbows  for  the  crowd 
while  I'm  about  it." 

So  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives  Manuel  and 


Lost  and  Found  at  the  Liniment  Wagon  145 

Joseph  and  Rosa  rode  in  one  of  the  "honk  wagons" 
which  heretofore  they  had  known  only  as  something 
to  be  dodged  when  one  walked  abroad.  Judging 
by  the  blissful  grins  which  took  permanent  lodging 
on  their  dirty  faces,  Cousin  James  was  eligible  to 
the  highest  position  the  new  club  could  bestow,  if 
ever  he  should  apply  for  membership. 

If  Mrs.  Triplett  had  been  downstairs  that  even- 
ing, none  of  the  birthday  nickels  would  have  found 
their  way  through  the  ticket  window  of  the  moving 
picture  show.  She  supposed  that  Georgina  was 
reading  as  usual  beside  the  evening  lamp,  or  was 
out  on  the  front  porch  talking  to  Belle.  But  Belle, 
not  caring  to  talk  to  anyone,  had  given  instant  con- 
sent when  Georgina,  who  wanted  to  go  to  the  show, 
having  seen  wonderful  posters  advertising  it,  sug- 
gested that  Mrs.  Fayal  would  take  her  in  charge. 
She  did  not  add  that  she  had  already  seen  Mrs.  Fayal 
and  promised  to  provide  tickets  for  her  and  the 
children  in  case  she  could  get  permission  from  home. 
Belle  did  not  seem  interested  in  hearing  such  things, 
so  Georgina  hurried  off  lest  something  might  hap- 
pen to  interfere  before  she  was  beyond  the  reach  of 
summoning  voices. 

On  the  return  from  Truro  she  had  asked  to  be 
put  out  at  the  Fayal  cottage,  having  it  in  mind  to 
make  some  such  arrangement.  Manuel  had  seen  one 
show,  but  Joseph  and  Rosa  had  never  so  much  as 
had  their  heads  inside  of  one.  She  found  Mrs. 


146         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Fayal  glooming  over  a  wash-tub,  not  because  she 
objected  to  washing  for  the  summer  people.  She 
was  used  to  that,  having  done  it  six  days  out  of 
seven  every  summer  since  she  had  married  Joe 
Fayal.  What  she  was  glooming  over  was  that  Joe 
was  home  from  a  week's  fishing  trip  with  his  share 
of  the  money  for  the  biggest  catch  of  the  season,  and 
not  a  dime  of  it  had  she  seen.  It  had  all  gone  into 
the  pocket  of  an  itinerant  vendor,  and  Joe  was 
lying  in  a  sodden  stupor  out  under  the  grape  arbor 
at  the  side  of  the  cottage. 

Georgina  started  to  back  away  when  she  found  the 
state  of  affairs.  She  did  not  suppose  Mrs.  Fayal 
would  have  a  mind  for  merry-making  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. But,  indeed,  Mrs.  Fayal  did. 

"All  the  more  reason  that  I  should  go  off  and  for- 
get my  troubles  and  have  a  good  time  for  a  while," 
she  said  decidedly.  Georgina  recognized  the  spirit 
if  not  the  words  of  her  own  "line  to  live  by."  Mrs. 
Fayal  could  bear  up  and  steer  onward  with  a  joyful 
heart  any  time  she  had  the  price  of  admission  to  a 
movie  in  her  pocket.  So  feeling  that  as  a  member 
of  the  new  club  she  could  not  have  a  better  oppor- 
tunity to  make  good  its  name,  Georgina  promised 
the  tickets  for  the  family  even  if  she  could  not  go 
herself.  She  would  send  them  by  Richard  if  not 
allowed  to  take  them  in  person. 

It  was  still  light  when  Georgina  fared  forth  at  the 
end  of  the  long  summer  day.  Richard  joined  her 


Lost  and  Found  at  the  Liniment  Wagon  147 

at  the  foot  of  the  Green  Stairs  with  the  price  of  his 
own  ticket  in  his  pocket,  and  Captain  Kidd  tagging 
at  his  heels. 

"They  won't  let  the  dog  into  the  show,"  Georgina 
reminded  him. 

"That's  so,  and  he  might  get  into  a  fight  or  run 
over  if  I  left  him  outside,"  Richard  answered. 
"B'leeve  I'll  shut  him  up  in  the  garage." 

This  he  did,  fastening  the  door  securely,  and  re- 
turning in  time  to  see  the  rest  of  the  party  turning 
the  corner,  and  coming  towards  the  Green  Stairs. 

Mrs.  Fayal,  after  her  long  day  over  the  wash- 
tub,  was  resplendent  in  lavender  shirt-waist,  blue 
serge  skirt  and  white  tennis  shoes,  with  long  gold 
ear-rings  dangling  half-way  to  her  shoulders.  Man- 
uel and  Joseph  were  barefooted  as  usual,  and  in  over- 
alls as  usual,  but  their  lack  of  gala  attire  was  made 
up  for  by  Rosa's.  No  wax  doll  was  ever  more 
daintily  and  lacily  dressed.  Georgina  looked  at  her 
in  surprise,  wishing  Tippy  could  see  her  now.  Rosa 
in  her  white  dress  and  slippers  and  with  her  face 
clean,  was  a  little  beauty. 

Mrs.  Fayal  made  a  delightful  chaperon.  She 
was  just  as  ready  as  anyone  in  her  train  to  stop  in 
front  of  shop  windows,  to  straggle  slowly  down  the 
middle  of  the  street,  or  to  thrust  her  hand  into  Rich- 
ard's bag  of  peanuts  whenever  he  passed  it  around. 
Cracking  shells  and  munching  the  nuts,  they  strolled 
along  with  a  sense  of  freedom  which  thrilled  Geor- 


148         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

gina  to  the  core.  She  had  never  felt  it  before.  She 
had  just  bought  five  tickets  and  Richard  his  one,  and 
they  were  about  to  pass  in  although  Mrs.  Fayal  said 
it  was  early  yet,  when  a  deep  voice  roaring  through 
the  crowd  attracted  their  attention.  It  was  as  sonor- 
ous as  a  megaphone. 

"Walk  up,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  See  the  wild- 
cat, Texas  Tim,  brought  from  the  banks  of  the 
Brazos." 

"Let's  go,"  said  Richard  and  Georgina  in  the 
samef  breath.  Mrs.  Fayal,  out  for  a  good  time  and 
to  see  all  that  was  to  be  seen,  bobbed  her  long  ear- 
rings in  gracious  assent,  and  headed  the  procession, 
in  order  that  her  ample  form  might  make  an  enter- 
ing wedge  for  the  others,  as  she  elbowed  her  way 
through  the  crowd  gathered  at  the  street  end  of 
Railroad  wharf. 

It  clustered  thickest  around  a  wagon  in  which 
stood  a  broad-shouldered  man,  mounted  on  a  chair. 
He  wore  a  cow-boy  hat.  A  flaming  torch  set  up  be- 
side the  wagon  lighted  a  cage  in  one  end  of  it,  in 
which  crouched  a  wild-cat  bewildered  by  the  light 
and  the  bedlam  of  noisy,  pushing  human  beings.  The 
children  could  not  see  the  animal  at  first,  but  pushed 
nearer  the  wagon  to  hear  what  the  man  was  saying. 
He  held  up  a  bottle  and  shook  it  over  the  heads  of 
the  people. 

"Here's  your  marvelous  rheumatism  remedy,"  he 
cried,  "made  from  the  fat  of  wild-cats.  Warranted 


Lost  and  Found  at  the  Liniment  Wagon  149 

to  cure  every  kind  of  ache,  sprain  and  misery  known 
to  man.  Only  fifty  cents,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  sure 
cure  or  your  money  back.  Anybody  here  with  an 
ache  or  a  pain?" 

The  children  pushed  closer.  Richard,  feeling  the 
effect  of  the  gun-powder  he  had  eaten,  turned  to 
Georgina. 

"I  dare  you  to  climb  up  and  touch  the  end  of  the 
wild-cat's  tail." 

Georgina  stood  on  tiptoe,  then  dodged  under 
someone's  elbow  for  a  nearer  view.  The  end  of 
the  tail  protruded  from  between  the  bars  of  the  cage, 
in  easy  reach  if  one  were  on  the  wagon,  but  those  fur- 
tive eyes  keeping  watch  above  it  were  savage  in 
their  gleaming.  Then  she,  too,  remembered  the  gun- 
powder. 

"I'll  do  it  if  you  will." 

Before  Richard  could  put  the  gun-powder  to  the 
test  the  man  reached  down  for  a  guitar  leaning 
against  his  chair,  and  with  a  twanging  of  chords 
which  made  the  shifting  people  on  the  outskirts  stand 
still  to  see  what  would  happen  next,  he  began  to  sing 
a  song  that  had  been  popular  in  his  youth.  Or, 
rather,  it  was  a  parody  of  the  song.  Georgina  recog- 
nized it  as  one  that  she  had  heard  Uncle  Darcy 
sing,  and  even  Tippy  hummed  it  sometimes  when 
she  was  sewing.  It  was,  "When  you  and  I  were 
young,  Maggie." 


150         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"They  say  we  are  aged  and  gray,  Maggie, 
As  spray  by  the  white  breakers  flung, 
But  the  liniment  keeps  us  as  spry,  Maggie, 
As  when  you  and  I  were  young." 

Several  people  laughed  and  passed  on  when  the 
song  was  done,  but  the  greater  part  of  the  crowd 
stayed,  hoping  to  hear  another,  for  the  voice  was  a 
powerful  one  and  fairly  sweet. 

"Anybody  here  with  any  aches  or  pains?"  he  called 
again.  "If  so,  step  this  way,  please,  and  let  me  make 
a  simple  demonstration  of  how  quickly  this  magic 
oil  will  cure  you." 

There  was  a  commotion  near  the  wagon,  and  a 
man  pushed  his  way  through  and  climbed  up  on  the 
wheel.  He  offered  a  stiff  wrist  for  treatment.  The 
vendor  tipped  up  the  bottle  and  poured  out  some 
pungent  volatile  oil  from  the  bottle,  the  odor  of 
which  was  far-reaching.  He  rubbed  the  wrist  briskly 
for  a  moment,  then  gave  it  a  slap  saying,  "Now  see 
what  you  can  do  with  it,  my  friend." 

The  patient  scowled  at  it,  twisting  his  arm  in  every 
possible  direction  as  if  skeptical  of  any  help  from 
such  a  source,  but  gradually  letting  a  look  of  pleased 
surprise  spread  across  his  face.  The  crowd  watched 
in  amusement,  and  nearly  everybody  laughed  when 
the  patient  finally  announced  in  a  loud  voice  that  he 
was  cured,  that  it  was  nothing  short  of  a  miracle 


Lost  and  Found  at  the  Liniment  Wagon  151 

and  that  he'd  buy  half  a  dozen  bottles  of  that  witch 
stuff  to  take  home  to  his  friends. 

The  vendor  began  his  speech-making  again,  call- 
ing attention  to  the  cure  they  had  just  witnessed,  and 
urging  others  to  follow.  As  the  subject  of  the  cure 
stepped  down  from  the  wheel  Richard  sprang  up 
in  his  place.  Georgina,  pressing  closer,  saw  him 
lean  over  the  side  of  the  wagon  and  boldly  take  hold 
of  the  end  of  the  beast's  tail. 

"There.  I  did  it,"  he  announced.  "Now  it's  your 
turn." 

Georgina  gave  one  glance  at  the  wild-cat's  eyes 
and  drew  back.  They  seemed  to  glare  directly  at 
her.  She  wondered  how  strong  the  bars  were,  and 
if  they  would  hold  the  beast  in  case  it  rose  up  in  a 
rage  and  sprang  at  her.  But  Richard  was  waiting, 
and  she  clambered  up  on  the  hub  of  the  wheel.  Luck- 
ily its  owner  was  turned  towards  the  other  side  at 
that  moment  or  she  might  have  been  ordered  down. 

"There!  I  did  it,  too,"  she  announced  an  instant 
later.  "Now  you  can't  crow  over  me." 

She  was  about  to  step  down  when  she  saw  in  the 
other  end  of  the  wagon,  something  she  had  not 
been  able  to  see  from  her  place  on  the  ground  under 
the  elbows  of  the  crowd.  In  a  low  rocking  chair  sat 
an  elderly  woman,  oddly  out  of  place  in  this  travel- 
ing medicine  show  as  far  as  appearance  was  con- 
cerned. She  had  a  calm,  motherly  face,  gray  hair 
combed  smoothly  down  over  her  ears,  a  plain  old- 


152         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

fashioned  gray  dress  and  an  air  of  being  perfectly  at 
home.  It  was  the  serene,  unconscious  manner  one 
would  have  in  sitting  on  the  door-step  at  home.  She 
did  not  seem  to  belong  in  the  midst  of  this  seething 
curious  mass,  or  to  realize  that  she  was  a  part  of  the 
show.  She  smiled  now  at  Georgina  in  such  a  friendly 
way  that  Georgina  smiled  back  and  continued  to 
stand  on  the  wheel.  She  hoped  that  this  nice  old 
lady  would  say  something  about  the  virtues  of  the 
medicine,  for  it  cured  two  more  people,  even  while 
she  looked,  and  if  she  could  be  sure  it  did  all  that 
was  claimed  for  it  she  would  spend  all  the  rest  of 
her  birthday  money  in  buying  a  bottle  for  Tippy. 

The  placid  old  lady  said  nothing,  but  her  reas- 
suring presence  finally  made  Georgina  decide  to  buy 
the  bottle,  and  she  emptied  the  red  purse  of  every- 
thing except  the  tickets.  Then  the  man  embarrassed 
her  until  her  cheeks  flamed. 

"That's  right,  little  girl.  Carry  it  to  the  dear 
sufferer  at  home  who  will  bless  you  for  your  kind- 
ness. Anybody  else  here  who  will  imitate  this  child's 
generous  act?  If  you  haven't  any  pain  yourself, 
show  your  gratitude  by  thinking  of  someone  less 
fortunate  than  you." 

Georgina  felt  that  her  blushes  were  burning  her 
up  at  thus  being  made  the  centre  of  public  notice. 
She  almost  fell  off  the  wheel  in  her  haste  to  get  down, 
and  in  doing  so  stumbled  over  a  dog  which  suddenly 
emerged  from  under  the  wagon  at  that  instant. 


Lost  and  Found  at  the  Liniment  Wagon  153 

"Why,  it's  Captain  Kidd!"  she  exclaimed  in  as- 
tonishment. "How  ever  did  he  get  here?" 

"Must  have  scratched  under  the  door  and  trailed 
us,"  answered  Richard.  "Go  on  home,  sir !"  he  com- 
manded, sternly,  stamping  his  foot.  "You  know  they 
won't  let  you  into  the  show  with  us,  and  you'll  get 
into  trouble  if  you  stay  downtown  alone.  Go  on 
home  I  say." 

With  drooping  tail  and  a  look  so  reproachful  that 
it  was  fairly  human,  Captain  Kidd  slunk  away,  start- 
ing mournfully  homeward.  He  sneaked  back  in  a 
few  minutes,  however,  and  trailed  his  party  as  far 
as  the  door  of  the  theatre.  Somebody  kicked  at  him 
and  he  fled  down  the  street  again,  retracing  the  trail 
that  had  led  him  to  the  wagon. 

A  long  time  after  when  the  performance  was 
nearly  over  he  went  swinging  up  the  beach  with 
something  in  his  mouth  which  he  had  picked  up  from 
near  the  end  of  the  wagon.  It  was  a  tobacco  pouch 
of  soft  gray  leather  that  had  never  been  used  for 
tobacco.  There  was  something  hard  and  round  in- 
side which  felt  like  a  bone.  At  the  top  of  the  Green 
Stairs  he  lay  down  and  mouthed  it  a  while,  tugging 
at  it  with  his  sharp  teeth ;  but  after  he  had  mumbled 
and  gnawed  it  for  some  time  without  bringing  the 
bone  any  nearer  the  surface,  he  grew  tired  of  his 
newfound  plaything.  Dropping  it  in  the  grass, 
he  betook  himself  to  the  door-mat  on  the  front 
porch,  to  await  his  master's  return. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

BURIED   TREASURE 

Georgina  tiptoed  up  the  walk  to  the 
front  porch  where  Belle  sat  waiting  for  her 
in  the  moonlight,  Tippy  called  down  that  she  wasn't 
asleep,  and  they  needn't  stay  out  there  on  her  ac- 
count, whispering.  It  did  not  seem  an  auspicious 
time  to  present  the  bottle  of  liniment,  but  to  Geor- 
gina's  surprise  Tippy  seemed  glad  to  try  the  new 
remedy.  The  long-continued  pain  which  refused  to 
yield  to  treatment  made  her  willing  to  try  anything 
which  promised  relief. 

It  was  vile-smelling  stuff,  so  pungent  that  when- 
ever the  cork  was  taken  out  of  the  bottle  the  whole 
house  knew  it,  but  it  burned  with  soothing  fire  and 
Tippy  rose  up  and  called  it  blessed  before  the  next 
day  was  over.  Before  that  happened,  however, 
Georgina  took  advantage  of  Belle's  easy  rule  to 
leave  home  as  soon  as  her  little  morning  tasks  were 
done.  Strolling  down  the  board-walk  with  many 
stops  she  came  at  last  to  the  foot  of  the  Green 
Stairs.  Richard  sat  on  the  top  step,  tugging  at  a 
knotted  string. 

154 


Buried  Treasure  155 

"Come  on  up,"  he  called.  "See  what  I've  taken 
away  from  Captain  Kidd.  He  was  just  starting  to 
bury  it.  Looks  like  a  tobacco  pouch,  but  I  haven't 
got  it  untied  yet.  He  made  the  string  all  wet,  gnaw- 
ing on  it." 

Georgina  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  steps  and  sat 
down  beside  him,  watching  in  deep  and  silent  interest. 
When  the  string  finally  gave  way  she  offered  her  lap 
to  receive  the  contents  of  the  pouch.  Two  five-dollar 
gold  pieces  rolled  out  first,  then  a  handful  of  small 
change,  a  black  ring  evidently  whittled  out  of  a  rub- 
ber button  and  lastly  a  watch-fob  ornament.  It  was 
a  little  compass,  set  in  something  which  looked  like 
a  nut. 

"I  believe  that's  a  buckeye,"  said  Richard.  He 
examined  it  carefully  on  all  sides,  then  called  ex- 
citedly : 

"Aw,  look  here!  See  those  letters  scratched  on 
the  side — 'D.  D.'  ?  That  stands  for  my  name,  Dare- 
devil Dick.  I'm  going  to  keep  it." 

"That's  the  cunningest  thing  I  ever  saw,"  declared 
Georgina  in  a  tone  both  admiring  and  envious,  which 
plainly  showed  that  she  wished  the  initials  were  such 
as  could  be  claimed  by  a  Gory  George.  Then  she 
picked  up  the  pouch  and  thrust  in  her  hand.  Some- 
thing rustled.  It  was  a  letter.  Evidently  it  had 
been  forwarded  many  times,  for  the  envelope  was 
entirely  criss-crossed  with  names  that  had  been  writ- 
ten and  blotted  out  that  new  ones  might  be  added. 


156         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

All  they  could  make  out  was  "Mrs.  Henry" — 
"Texas"  and  "Mass." 

"I'd  like  to  have  that  stamp  for  my  album,"  said 
Richard.  "It's  foreign.  Seems  to  me  I've  got  one 
that  looks  something  like  it,  but  I'm  not  sure.  Maybe 
the  letter  will  tell  who  the  pouch  belongs  to." 

"But  we  can't  read  other  people's  letters,"  ob- 
jected Georgina. 

"Well,  who  wants  to?  It  won't  be  reading  it  just 
to  look  at  the  head  and  tail,  will  it?" 

"No,"  admitted  Georgina,  hesitatingly.,  "Though 
it  does  seem  like  peeking." 

"Well,  if  you  lost  something  wouldn't  you  rather 
whoever  found  it  should  peek  and  find  out  it  was 
yours,  than  to  have  it  stay  lost  forever?" 

"Yes,  I  s'pose  so." 

"Let's  look,  then." 

Two  heads  bent  over  the  sheet  spread  out  on 
Richard's  knee.  They  read  slowly  in  unison,  "Dear 
friend,"  then  turned  over  the  paper  and  sought  the 
last  line.  "Your  grateful  friend  Dave." 

"We  don't  know  any  more  now  than  we  did  be- 
fore," said  Georgina,  virtuously  folding  up  the  letter 
and  slipping  it  back  into  the  envelope. 

"Let's  take  it  to  Uncle  Darcy.  Then  he'll  let  us 
go  along  and  ring  the  bell  when  he  calls,  'Found.'  ' 

Richard  had  two  objections  to  this.  "Who'd  pay 
him  for  doing  it?  Besides,  it's  gold  money,  and  any- 
body who  loses  that  much  would  advertise  for  it  in 


Buried  Treasure  157 

the  papers.  Let's  keep  it  till  this  week's  papers  come 
out,  and  then  we'll  have  the  fun  of  taking  it  to  the 
person  who  lost  it." 

"It  wouldn't  be  safe  for  us  to  keep  it,"  was  Geor- 
gina's  next  objection.  "It's  gold  money  and  burglars 
might  find  out  we  had  it." 

"Then  I'll  tell  you" Richard's  face  shone  as 

he  made  the  suggestion — "Let's  bury  it.  That  will 
keep  it  safe  till  we  can  find  the  owner,  and  when  we 
dig  it  up  we  can  play  it's  pirate  gold  and  it'll  be  like 
finding  real  treasure." 

"Lets!"  agreed  Georgina.  "We  can  keep  out 
something,  a  nickel  or  a  dime,  and  when  we  go  to  dig 
up  the  pouch  we  can  throw  it  over  toward  the  place 
where  we  buried  the  bag  and  say,  'Brother,  go  find 
your  brother,'  the  way  Tom  Sawyer  did.  Then  we'll 
be  certain  to  hit  the  spot." 

Richard  picked  up  the  compass,  and  rubbed  the 
polished  sides  of  the  nut  in  which  it  was  set. 

"I'll  keep  this  out  instead  of  a  nickel.  I  wonder 
what  the  fellow's  name  was  that  this  D.  D.  stands 
for?" 

Half  an  hour  later  two  bloody-minded  sea-robbers 
slipped  through  the  back  gate  of  the  Milford  place 
and  took  their  stealthy  way  out  into  the  dunes.  No 
fierce  mustachios  or  hoop  ear-rings  marked  them  on 
this  occasion  as  the  Dread  Destroyer  or  the  Menace 
of  the  Main.  The  time  did  not  seem  favorable  for 
donning  their  real  costumes.  So  one  went  disguised 


158         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

as  a  dainty  maiden  in  a  short  pink  frock  and  long 
brown  curls,  and  the  other  as  a  sturdy  boy  in  a  grass- 
stained  linen  suit  with  a  hole  in  the  knee  of  his  stock- 
ing. But  their  speech  would  have  betrayed  their  evil 
business  had  anyone  been  in  earshot  of  it.  One 
would  have  thought  it  was 

"Wild  Roger  come  again. 

He  spoke  of  forays  and  of  frays  upon  the  Spanish 
Main." 

Having  real  gold  to  bury  made  the  whole  affair 
seem  a  real  adventure.  They  were  recounting  to 
each  other  as  they  dug,  the  bloody  fight  it  had  taken 
to  secure  this  lot  of  treasure. 

Down  in  a  hollow  where  the  surrounding  sand- 
ridges  sheltered  them  from  view,  they  crouched  over 
a  small  basket  they  had  brought  with  them  and  per- 
formed certain  ceremonies.  First  the  pouch  was 
wrapped  in  many  sheets  of  tin  foil,  which  Richard 
had  been  long  in  collecting  from  various  tobacco- 
loving  friends.  When  that  was  done  it  flashed  in  the 
sun  like  a  nugget  of  wrinkled  silver.  This  was 
stuffed  into  a  baking-powder  can  from  which  the  label 
had  been  carefully  scraped,  and  on  whose  lid  had 
been  scratched  with  a  nail,  the  names  Georgina  Hunt- 
ingdon and  Richard  Moreland,  with  the  date. 

"We'd  better  put  our  everyday  names  on  it  in- 
stead of  our  pirate  names,"  Gory  George  suggested. 


Buried  Treasure  159 

"For  if  anything  should  happen  that  some  other 
pirate  dug  it  up  first  they  wouldn't  know  who  the 
Dread  Destroyer  and  the  Menace  of  the  Main 


were." 


Lastly,  from  the  basket  was  taken  the  end  of  a 
wax  candle,  several  matches  and  a  stick  of  red  seal- 
ing-wax, borrowed  from  Cousin  James'  desk. 
Holding  the  end  of  the  sealing-wax  over  the  lighted 
candle  until  it  was  soft  and  dripping,  Richard  daubed 
it  around  the  edge  of  the  can  lid,  as  he  had  seen  the 
man  in  the  express  office  seal  packages.  He  had 
always  longed  to  try  it  himself.  There  was  some- 
thing peculiarly  pleasing  in  the  smell  of  melted  seal- 
ing-wax. Georgina  found  it  equally  alluring.  She 
took  the  stick  away  from  him  when  it  was  about  half 
used,  and  finished  it. 

"There  won't  be  any  to  put  back  in  Cousin  James' 
desk  if  you  keep  on  using  it,"  he  warned  her. 

"I'm  not  using  any  more  than  you  did,"  she  an- 
swered, and  calmly  proceeded  to  smear  on  the  re- 
mainder. "If  you  had  let  me  seal  with  the  first  end 
of  the  stick,  you'd  have  had  all  the  last  end  to  save." 

All  this  time  Captain  Kidd  sat  close  beside  them, 
an  interested  spectator,  but  as  they  began  digging 
the  hole  he  rushed  towards  it  and  pawed  violently 
at  each  shovelful  of  sand  thrown  out. 

"Aw,  let  him  help !"  Richard  exclaimed  when 
Georgina  ordered  him  to  stop.  "He  ought  to  have 
a  part  in  it  because  he  found  the  pouch  and  was  start- 


160         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

ing  to  bury  it  his  own  self  when  I  took  it  away  from 
him  and  spoiled  his  fun." 

Georgina  saw  the  justice  of  the  claim  and  allowed 
Captain  Kidd  to  join  in  as  he  pleased,  but  no  sooner 
did  they  stop  digging  to  give  him  a  chance  than  he 
stopped  also. 

"Rats!"  called  Richard  in  a  shrill  whisper. 

At  that  familiar  word  the  dog  began  digging  so 
frantically  that  the  sand  flew  in  every  direction. 
Each  time  he  paused  for  breath  Richard  called 
"Ra£s"  again.  It  doubled  the  interest  for  both  chil- 
dren to  have  the  dog  take  such  frantic  and  earnest 
part  in  their  game. 

When  the  hole  was  pronounced  deep  enough  the 
can  was  dropped  in,  .the  sand  shoveled  over  it  and 
tramped  down,  and  a  marker  made.  A  long,  forked 
stick,  broken  from  a  bayberry  bush,  was  run  into  the 
ground  so  that  only  the  fork  of  it  was  visible.  Then 
at  twenty  paces  from  the  stick,  Richard  stepping  them 
off  in  four  directions,  consulting  the  little  compass 
in  so  doing,  Georgina  placed  the  markers,  four  sec- 
tions of  a  broken  crock  rescued  from  the  ash-barrel 
and  brought  down  in  the  basket  for  that  especial 
purpose. 

"We'll  let  it  stay  buried  for  a  week,"  said  Richard 
when  all  was  done.  "Unless  somebody  claims  it 
sooner.  If  they  don't  come  in  a  week,  then  we'll 
know  they're  never  coming,  and  the  gold  will  be 


ours." 


CHAPTER    XV 

A   NARROW   ESCAPE 

R.  MILFORD  was  stretched  out  in  a  hammock 
on  the  front  porch  of  the  bungalow  when  the 
children  came  back  from  the  dunes  with  their  empty 
basket.  They  could  not  see  him  as  they  climbed  up 
the  terrace,  the  porch  being  high  above  them  and 
draped  with  vines;  and  he  deep  in  a  new  book  was 
only  vaguely  conscious  of  approaching  voices. 

They  were  discussing  the  "Rescues  of  Rosalind," 
the  play  they  had  seen  the  night  before  on  the  films. 
Their  shrill,  eager  tones  would  have  attracted  the 
attention  of  anyone  less  absorbed  than  Mr.  Mil- 
ford. 

"I'll  bet  you  couldn't,"  Georgina  was  saying.  "If 
you  were  gagged  and  bound  the  way  Rosalind  was, 
you  couldn't  get  loose,  no  matter  how  you  squirmed 
and  twisted." 

"Come  back  in  the  garage  and  try  me,"  Richard 
retorted.  "I'll  prove  it  to  you  that  I  can." 

"Always  an  automobile  dashes  up  and  there's  a 
chase.  It's  been  that  way  in  every  movie  I  ever 
saw,"  announced  Georgina  with  the  air  of  one  who 
has  attended  nightly  through  many  seasons. 

"I  can  do  that  part  all  right,"  declared  Richard. 
"I  can  run  an  automobile." 

161 


162         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

There  was  no  disputing  that  fact,  no  matter  how 
contradictory  Georgina's  frame  of  mind.  Only  the 
day  before  she  had  seen  him  take  the  wheel  and  run 
the  car  for  three  miles  under  the  direction  of  Cousin 
James,  when  they  came  to  a  level  stretch  of  road. 

"Yes,  but  you  know  your  Cousin  James  said  you 
were  never  to  do  it  unless  he  was  along  himself.  You 
wasn't  to  dare  to  touch  it  when  you  were  out  with 
only  the  chauffeur." 

"He  wouldn't  care  if  we  got  in  and  didn't  start 
anything  but  the  engine,"  said  Richard.  "Climb  in 
and  play  that  I'm  running  away  with  you.  With 
the  motor  chugging  away  and  shaking  the  machine 
it'll  seem  as  if  we're  really  going." 

By  this  time  they  were  inside  the  garage,  with  the 
doors  closed  behind  them. 

"Now  you  get  in  and  keep  looking  back  the  way 
Rosalind  did  to  see  how  near  they  are  to  catching 


us." 


Instantly  Georgina  threw  herself  into  the  spirit 
of  the  game.  Climbing  into  the  back  seat  she  as- 
sumed the  pose  of  the  kidnapped  bride  whose  adven- 
tures had  thrilled  them  the  night  before. 

"Play  my  white  veil  is  floating  out  in  the  wind," 
she  commanded,  "and  I'm  looking  back  and  waving 
to  my  husband  to  come  faster  and  take  me  away  from 
the  dreadful  villain  who  is  going  to  kill  me  for  my 
jewels.  I  wish  this  car  was  out  of  doors  instead  of 


A  Narrow  Escape  163 

in  this  dark  garage.  When  I  look  back  I  look  bang 
against  the  closed  door  every  time,  and  I  can't  make 
it  seem  as  if  I  was  seeing  far  down  the  road." 

"Play  it's  night,"  suggested  Richard.  He  had  put 
on  a  pair  of  goggles  and  was  making  a  great  pre- 
tence of  getting  ready  to  start.  Georgina,  leaning 
out  as  Rosalind  .had  done,  waved  her  lily  hand  in 
frantic  beckonings  for  her  rescuers  to  follow  faster. 
The  motor  chugged  harder  and  harder.  The  car 
shook  violently. 

To  the  vivid  imaginations  of  the  passengers,  the 
chase  was  as  exciting  as  if  the  automobile  were  really 
plunging  down  the  road  instead  of  throbbing  steadily 
in  one  spot  in  the  dim  garage.  The  gas  rolling  up 
from  somewhere  in  the  back  made  it  wonderfully 
realistic.  But  out  on  the  open  road  the  smell  of 
burning  gasoline  would  not  have  been  so  overpower- 
ing. Inside  the  little  box-like  garage  it  began  to 
close  in  on  them  and  settle  down  like  a  dense  fog. 

Georgina  coughed  and  Richard  looked  back  ap- 
prehensively, feeling  that  something  was  wrong,  and 
if  that  queer  smoke  didn't  stop  pouring  out  in  such 
a  thick  cloud  he'd  have  to  shut  off  the  engine  or  do 
something.  Another  moment  passed  and  he  leaned 
forward,  fumbling  for  the  key,  but  he  couldn't  find 
it.  He  had  grown  queerly  confused  and  light- 
headed. He  couldn't  make  his  fingers  move  where 
he  wanted  them  to  go. 


164         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

He  looked  back  at  Georgina.  She  wasn't  waving 
her  hands  any  more.  She  was  lying  limply  back  on 
the  seat  as  if  too  tired  to  play  any  longer.  And  a 
thousand  miles  away — at  least  it  sounded  that  far — 
above  the  terrific  noise  the  motor  was  making,  he 
heard  Captain  Kidd  barking.  They  were  short,  ex- 
cited barks,  so  thin  and  queer,  almost  as  thin  and 
queer  as  if  he  were  barking  with  the  voice  of  a 
mosquito  instead  of  his  own. 

And  then — Richard  heard  nothing  more,  not  even 
the  noise  of  the  motor.  His  hand  dropped  from  the 
wheel,  and  he  began  slipping  down,  down  from  the 
seat  to  the  floor  of  the  car,  white  and  limp,  over- 
come like  Georgina,  by  the  fumes  of  the  poisonous 
gas  rolling  up  from  the  carburetor. 

Mr.  Milford,  up  in  the  hammock,  had  been 
vaguely  conscious  for  several  minutes  of  unusual 
sounds  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood,  but  it  was 
not  until  he  reached  the  end  of  the  chapter  that  he 
took  any  intelligent  notice.  Then  he  looked  up  think- 
ing somebody's  machine  was  making  a  terrible  fuss 
somewhere  near.  But  it  wasn't  that  sound  which 
made  him  sit  up  in  the  hammock.  It  was  Captain 
Kidd's  frantic  barking  and  yelping  and  whining  as  if 
something  terrible  was  happening  to  him. 

Standing  up  to  stretch  himself,  then  walking  to  the 
corner  of  the  porch,  Mr.  Milford  looked  out.  He 
could  see  the  little  terrier  alternately  scratching  on 
the  garage  door  and  making  frantic  efforts  to  dig 


A  Narrow  Escape  165 

under  it.  Evidently  he  felt  left  out  and  was  trying 
desperately  to  join  his  little  playmates,  or  else  he  felt 
that  something  was  wrong  inside. 

Then  it  came  to  Mr.  Milford  in  a  flash  that  some- 
thing was  wrong  inside.  Nobody  ever  touched  that 
machine  but  himself  and  the  chauffeur,  and  the 
chauffeur,  who  was  having  a  day  off,  was  half-way  to 
Yarmouth  by  this  time.  He  didn't  wait  to  go  down 
by  the  steps.  With  one  leap  he  was  over  the  railing, 
crashing  through  the  vines,  and  running  down  the 
terrace  to  the  garage. 

As  he  rolled  back  one  of  the  sliding  doors  a  suffo- 
cating burst  of  gas  rushed  into  his  face.  He  pushed 
both  doors  open  wide,  and  with  a  hand  over  his 
mouth  and  nose  hurried  through  the  heavily-charged 
atmosphere  to  shut  off  the  motor.  The  fresh  air 
rushing  in,  began  clearing  away  the  fumes,  and  he 
seized  Georgina  and  carried  her  out,  thinking  she 
would  be  revived  by  the  time  he  was  back  with  Rich- 
ard. But  neither  child  stirred  from  the  grass  where 
he  stretched  them  out 

As  he  called  for  the  cook  and  the  housekeeper, 
there  flashed  into  his  mind  an  account  he  had  read 
recently  in  a  New  York  paper,  of  a  man  and  his  wife 
who  had  been  asphyxiated  in  just  such  a  way  as  this. 
Now  thoroughly  alarmed,  he  sent  the  cook  running 
down  the  Green  Stairs  to  summon  Richard's  father 
from  the  studio,  and  the  housekeeper  to  telephone  in 
various  directions.  Three  doctors  were  there  in  a 


i66         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

miraculously  short  time,  but  despite  all  they  could  do 
at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  both  little  figures  still  lay 
white  and  motionless. 

Then  the  pulmotor  that  had  been  frantically  tele- 
phoned for  arrived  from  the  life-saving  station,  and 
just  as  the  man  dashed  up  with  that,  Mrs.  Triplett 
staggered  up  the  terrace,  her  knees  shaking  so  that 
she  could  scarcely  manage  to  climb  the  last  few 
steps. 

Afterwards,  the  happenings  of  the  day  were  very 
hazy  in  Georgina's  mind.  She  had  an  indistinct 
recollection  of  being  lifted  in  somebody's  arms  and 
moved  about,  and  of  feeling  very  sick  and  weak. 
Somebody  said  soothingly  to  somebody  who  was  cry- 
ing: 

"Oh,  the  worst  is  over  now.  They're  both  begin- 
ning to  come  around." 

Then  she  was  in  her  own  bed  and  the  wild-cat  from 
the  banks  of  the  Brazos  was  bending  over  her.  At 
least,  she  thought  it  was  the  wild-cat,  because  she 
smelled  the  liniment  as  strongly  as  she  did  when 
she  climbed  up  in  the  wagon  beside  it.  But  when  she 
opened  her  eyes  it  was  Tippy  who  was  bending  over 
her,  smoothing  her  curls  in  a  comforting,  purry  way, 
but  the  smell  of  liniment  still  nung  in  the  air. 

Then  Georgina  remembered  somethi  ig  that  must 
have  happened  before  she  was  carried  home  from 
the  bungalow. — Captain  Kidd  squirming  out  of  Tip- 
py's arms,  and  Tippy  with  the  tears  streaming  down 


A  Narrow  Escape  167 

her  face  trying  to  hold  him  and  hug  him  as  if  he  had 
been  a  person,  and  the  Milford's  cook  saying:  "If 
it  hadn't  been  for  the  little  beast's  barkin'  they'd  have 
been  dead  in  a  few  minutes  more.  Then  there'd 
have  been  a  double  funeral,  poor  lambs." 

Georgina  smiled  drowsily  now  and  slipped  off 
to  sleep  again,  but  later  when  she  awakened  the 
charm  of  the  cook's  phrase  aroused  her  thoroughly, 
and  she  lay  wondering  what  "a  double  funeral"  was 
like.  Would  it  have  been  at  her  house  or  Richard's? 
Would  two  little  white  coffins  have  stood  side  by  side, 
or  would  each  have  been  in  its  own  place,  with  the 
two  solemn  processions  meeting  and  joining  at  the 
foot  of  the  Green  Stairs.  Maybe  they  would  have 
put  on  her  tombstone,  "None  knew  her  but  to  love 
her."  No,  that  couldn't  be  said  about  her.  She'd 
been  wilfully  disobedient  too  often  for  that,  like  the 
time  she  played  w'ith  the  Portuguese  children  on  pur- 
pose to  spite  Tippy.  She  was  sorry  for  that  dis- 
obedience now,  for  she  had  discovered  that  Tippy 
was  fonder  of  her  than  she  had  supposed.  She  had 
proved  it  by  hugging  Captain  Kidd  so  gratefully 
for  saving  their  lives,  when  she  simply  loathed  dogs. 

Somehow  Georgina  felt  that  she  was  better  ac- 
quainted with  Mrs.  Triplett  than  she  had  ever  been 
before,  and  fonder  of  her.  Lying  there  in  the  dark 
she  made  several  good  resolutions.  She  was  going 
to  be  a  better  girl  in  the  future.  She  was  going  to  do 
kind,  lovely  things  for  everybody,  so  that  if  an  early 


i68         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

tomb  should  claim  her,  every  heart  in  town  would  be 
saddened  by  her  going.  It  would  be  lovely  to  leave 
a  widespread  heartache  behind  her.  She  wished  she 
could  live  such  a  life  that  there  wouldn't  be  a  dry  eye 
in  the  town  when  it  was  whispered  from  house  to 
house  that  little  Georgina  Huntingdon  was  with  the 
angels. 

She  pictured  Belle's  grief,  and  Uncle  Darcy's  and 
Richard's.  She  had  already  seen  Tippy's.  But  it 
was  a  very  different  thing  when  she  thought  of  Barby. 
There  was  no  pleasure  in  imagining  Barby's  grief. 
There  was  something  too  real  and  sharp  in  the  pain 
which  darted  into  her  own  heart  at  the  thought  of 
it.  She  wanted  to  put  her  arms  around  her  mother 
and  ward  off  sorrow  and  trouble  from  her  and  keep 
all  tears  away  from  those  dear  eyes.  She  wanted  to 
grow  up  and  take  care  of  her  darling  Barby  and  pro- 
tect her  from  the  Tishbite. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  Georgina  that  in  this  es- 
cape she  had  been  kept  from  the  power  of  that  mys- 
terious evil  which  had  threatened  her  ever  since  she 
called  it  forth  by  doing  such  a  wicked  thing  as  to 
use  the  "Sacred  Book"  to  work  a  charm. 

She  had  been  put  to  bed  in  the  daytime,  hence  her 
evening  petitions  were  still  unsaid.  Now  she  pulled 
the  covers  over  her  head  and  included  them  all  in  one 
fervent  appeal : 

"And  keep  on  delivering  us  from  the  Tishbite, 
forever  and  ever,  Amen!" 


CHAPTER    XVI 

WHAT  THE   STORM   DID 

morning  nearly  everyone  in  the  town  was 
talking  about  the  storm.  Belle  said  what  with 
the  booming  of  the  waves  against  the  breakwater 
and  the  wind  rattling  the  shutters,  she  hadn't  slept  a 
wink  all  night.  It  seemed  as  if  every  gust  would 
surely  take  the  house  off  its  foundations. 

Old  Jeremy  reported  that  it  was  one  of  the  worst 
wind-storms  ever  known  along  the  Cape,  wild  enough 
to  blow  all  the  sand  dunes  into  the  sea.  They'd  had 
the  best  shaking  up  and  shifting  around  that  they'd 
had  in  years,  he  declared.  Captain  Ames'  cranberry 
bog  was  buried  so  deep  in  sand  you  couldn't  see  a 
blossom  or  a  leaf.  And  there  was  sand  drifted  all 
over  the  garden.  It  had  whirled  clear  over  the  wall, 
till  the  bird  pool  was  half  full  of  it. 

Georgina  listened  languidly,  feeling  very  comfort- 
able and  important  with  her  breakfast  brought  in 
to  her  on  a  tray.  Tippy  thought  it  was  too  chilly 
for  her  in  the  dining-room  where  there  was  no  fire. 
Jeremy  had  kindled  a  cheerful  blaze  on  the  living- 
room  hearth  and  his  tales  of  damage  done  to  the 
shipping  and  to  roofs  and  chimneys  about  town, 

169 


170         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

seemed  to  emphasize  her  own  safety  and  comfort. 
The  only  thing  which  made  the  storm  seem  a  personal 
affair  was  the  big  limb  blown  off  the  willow  tree. 

Mrs.  Triplett  and  Jeremy  could  remember  a  storm 
years  ago  which  shifted  the  sand  until  the  whole  face 
of  the  Cape  seemed  changed.  That  was  before  the 
Government  planted  grass  all  over  it,  to  bind  it  to- 
gether with  firm  roots.  Later  when  the  ring  of  an 
axe  told  that  the  willow  limb  was  being  chopped  in 
pieces,  Georgina  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  out- 
doors. 

"Let  me  go  out  and  see  the  tracks  of  the  storm," 
she  urged.  "I  feel  all  right.  I'm  all  over  the  gas 
now." 

But  Mrs.  Triplett  preferred  to  run  no  risks.  All 
she  said  to  Georgina  was : 

"No,  after  such  a  close  call  as  you  had  yesterday 
you  stay  right  here  where  I  can  keep  an  eye  on  you, 
and  take  it  quietly  for  a  day  or  two,"  but  when  she 
went  into  the  next  room  Georgina  heard  her  say  to 
Belle: 

"There's  no  knowing  how  that  gas  may  have  af- 
fected her  heart." 

Georgina  made  a  face  at  the  first  speech,  but  the 
second  one  made  her  lie  down  languidly  on  the  sofa 
with  her  finger  on  her  pulse.  She  was  half  persuaded 
that  there  was  something  wrong  with  the  way  it  beat, 
and  was  about  to  ask  faintly  if  she  couldn't  have  a 
little  blackberry  cordial  with  her  lunch,  when  she 


What  the  Storm  Did  171 

heard  Richard's  alley  call  outside  and  Captain  Kidd's 
quick  bark. 

She  started  up,  forgetting  all  about  the  cordial  and 
her  pulse,  and  was  skipping  to  the  front  door  when 
Tippy  hurried  in  from  the  dining-room  and  reached 
it  first.  She  had  a  piece  of  an  old  coffee  sack  in  her 
hand. 

"Here!"  she  said  abruptly  to  Richard,  who  was 
so  surprised  at  the  sudden  opening  of  the  door  that 
he  nearly  fell  in  against  her. 

"You  catch  that  dog  and  hold  him  while  I  wipe  his 
feet.  I  can't  have  any  dirty  quadruped  like  that, 
tracking  up  my  clean  floors." 

Georgina  looked  at  the  performance  in  amaze- 
ment. Tippy  scrubbing  away  at  Captain  Kidd's 
muddy  paws  till  all  four  of  them  were  clean,  and 
then  actually  letting  him  come  into  the  house  and 
curl  up  on  the  hearth!  Tippy,  who  never  touched 
dogs  except  with  the  end  of  a  broom!  She  could 
scarcely  believe  what  her  own  eyes  told  her.  She  and 
Richard  must  have  had  a  "close  call,"  indeed,  closer 
than  either  of  them  realized,  to  make  such  a  won- 
derful change  in  Tippy. 

And  the  change  was  towards  Richard,  too.  She 
had  never  seemed  to  like  him  mudh  better  than  his 
dog.  She  blamed  him  for  taking  the  cream  bottles 
when  they  played  pirate,  and  she  thought  it  made 
little  girls  boisterous  and  rude  to  play  with  boys,  and 
she  wondered  at  Barby's  letting  Georgina  play  with 


172         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

him.  Several  times  she  had  done  her  wondering 
out  loud,  so  that  Georgina  heard  her,  and  wanted 
to  say  things  back — shocking  things,  such  as  Rosa 
said  to  Joseph.  But  she  never  said  them.  There 
was  always  that  old  silver  porringer,  sitting  prim  and 
lady-like  upon  the  sideboard. 

Things  were  different  to-day.  After  the  dog's 
paws  were  wiped  dry  Tippy  asked  Richard  how  he 
felt  after  the  accident,  and  she  asked  it  as  if  she  really 
cared  and  wanted  to  know.  And  she  brought  in  a 
plate  of  early  summer  apples,  the  first  in  the  market, 
and  told  him  to  help  himself  and  put  some  in  his 
pocket.  And  there  was  the  checker-board  if  they 
wanted  to  play  checkers  or  dominoes.  Her  unusual 
concern  for  their  entertainment  impressed  Georgina 
more  than  anything  else  she  could  have  done  with  the 
seriousness  of  the  danger  they  had  been  in.  She  felt 
very  solemn  and  important,  and  thanked  Tippy  with 
a  sweet,  patient  air,  befitting  one  who  has  just  been 
brought  up  from  the  "valley  of  the  shadow." 

The  moment  they  were  alone  Richard  began 
breathlessly : 

"Say.  On  the  way  here  I  went  by  that  place  where 
we  buried  the  pouch,  and  what  do  you  think?  The 
markers  are  out  of  sight  and  the  whole  place  itself 
is  buried — just  filled  up  level.  What  are  we  going 
to  do  about  it?" 

The  seriousness  of  the  situation  did  not  impress 
Georgina  until  he  added,  "S'pose  the  person  who  lost 


What  the  Storm  Did  173 

it  comes  back  for  it?    Maybe  we'd  be  put  in  prison." 
"But  nobody  knows  it's  buried  except  you  and  me." 
Richard  scuffed  one  shoe  against  the  other  and 
looked  into  the  fire. 

"But  Aunt  Letty  says  there's  no  getting  around 
it,  'Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out,'  always.  And 
I'm  awfully  unlucky  that  way.  Seems  to  me  I  never 
did  anything  in  my  life  that  I  oughtn't  to  a  done,  that 
I  didn't  get  found  out.  Aunt  Letty  has  a  book  that 
she  reads  to  me  sometimes  when  I'm  going  to  bed, 
that  proves  it.  Every  story  in  it  proves  it.  One  is 
about  a  traveler  who  murdered  a  man,  and  kept  it 
secret  for  twenty  years.  Then  he  gave  it  away,  talk- 
ing in  his  sleep.  And  one  was  a  feather  in  a  boy's 
coat  pocket.  It  led  to  its  being  found  out  that  he  was 
a  chicken  thief.  There's  about  forty  such  stories, 
and  everyone  of  them  prove  your  sin  is  sure  to  find 
you  out  some  time  before  you  die,  even  if  you  cover 
it  up  for  years  and  years." 

"But  we  didn't  do  any  sin,"  protested  Georgina. 
"We  just  buried  a  pouch  that  the  dog  found,  to  keep 
it  safe,  and  if  a  big  wind  came  along  and  covered 
it  up  so  we  can't  find  it,  that  isn't  our  fault.  We 
didn't  make  the  wind  blow,  did  we?" 

"But  there  was  gold  money  in  that  pouch,"  in- 
sisted Richard,  "and  it  wasn't  ours,  and  maybe  the 
letter  was  important  and  we  ought  to  have  turned  it 
over  to  Dad  or  Uncle  Darcy  or  the  police  or  some- 
body." 


174         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Aunt  Letty's  bedtime  efforts  to  keep  Richard's 
conscience  tender  were  far  more  effective  than  she 
had  dreamed.  He  was  quoting  Aunt  Letty  now. 

"We  wouldn't  want  anybody  to  do  our  things  that 
way."  Then  a  thought  of  his  own  came  to  him, 
"You  wouldn't  want  the  police  coming  round  and 
taking  you  off  to  the  lockup,  would  you?  I  saw  'em 
take  Binney  Rogers  one  time,  just  because  he  broke 
a  window  that  he  didn't  mean  to.  He  was  only  shy- 
ing a  rock  at  a  sparrow.  There  was  a  cop  on  each 
side  of  him  a  hold  of  his  arm,  and  Binney's  mother 
and  sister  were  following  along  behind  crying  and 
begging  them  not  to  take  him  something  awful.  But 
all  they  could  say  didn't  do  a  speck  of  good." 

The  picture  carried  weight.  In  spite  of  her  light 
tone  Georgina  was  impressed,  but  she  said  defiantly : 

"Well,  nobody  saw  us  do  it." 

"You  don't  know,"  was  the  gloomy  answer. 
"Somebody  might  have  been  up  in  the  monument 
with  a  spy  glass,  looking  down.  There's  always 
people  up  there  spying  around,  or  out  on  the  masts  in 
the  harbor,  anci  if  some  sleuth  was  put  on  the  trail 
of  that  pouch  the  first  thing  that  would  happen  would 
be  he'd  come  across  the  very  person  with  the  glass. 
It  always  happens  that  way,  and  I  know,  because 
Binney  Rogers  has  read  almost  all  the  detective 
stories  there  is,  and  he  said  so." 

A  feeling  of  uneasiness  began  to  clutch  at  Geor- 
gina's  interior.  Richard  spoke  so  knowingly  and 


What  the  Storm  Did  175 

convincingly  that  she  felt  a  real  need  for  blackberry 
cordial.  But  she  said  with  a  defiant  little  uplift  of 
her  chin : 

"Well,  as  long  as  we  didn't  mean  to  do  anything 
wrong,  I'm  not  going  to  get  scared  about  it.  I'm 
just  going  to  bear  up  and  steer  right  on,  and  keep 
hoping  that  everything  will  turn  out  all  right  so  hard 
that  it  will." 

Her  "line  to  live  by"  buoyed  her  up  so  success- 
fully for  the  time  being,  that  Richard,  too,  felt  the 
cheerful  influence  of  it,  and  passed  to  more  cheerful 
subjects. 

"We're  going  to  be  in  all  the  papers,"  he  an- 
nounced. "A  reporter  called  up  from  Boston  to  ask 
Cousin  James  how  it  happened.  There's  only  been 
a  few  cases  like  ours  in  the  whole  United  States. 
Won't  you  feel  funny  to  see  your  name  in  the  paper? 
Captain  Kidd  will  have  his  name  in,  too.  I  heard 
Cousin  James  say  over  the  telephone  that  he  was 
the  hero  of  the  hour;  that  if  he  hadn't  given  the 
alarm  we  wouldn't  have  been  discovered  till  it  was 
too  late." 

Richard  did  not  stay  long.  The  finished  portrait 
was  to  be  hung  in  the  Art  gallery  in  the  Town  Hall 
that  morning  and  he  wanted  to  be  on  hand  at  the 
hanging.  Later  it  would  be  sent  to  the  New  York 
exhibition. 

"Daddy's  going  to  let  me  go  with  him  when  Mr. 
Locke  comes  for  him  on  his  yacht.  He's  going  to 


176         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

take  me  because  I  sat  still  and  let  him  get  such  a  good 
picture.  It's  the  best  he's  ever  done.  We'll  be 
gone  a  week." 

"When  are  you  going?"  demanded  Georgina. 

"Oh,  in  a  few  days,  whenever  Mr.  Locke  comes." 

"I  hope  we  can  find  that  pouch  first,"  she  an- 
swered. Already  she  was  beginning  to  feel  little  and 
forlorn  and  left  behind.  "It'll  be  awful  lonesome 
with  you  and  Barby  both  gone." 

Tippy  came  in  soon  after  Richard  left  and  sat 
down  at  the  secretary. 

"I've  been  thinking  I  ought  to  write  to  your 
mother  and  let  her  know  about  yesterday's  perform- 
ance before  she  has  a  chance  to  hear  it  from  outsiders 
or  the  papers.  It's  a  whole  week  to-day  since  she 
left." 

"A  week,"  echoed  Georgina.  "Is  that  all?  It 
seems  a  month  at  least.  It's  been  so  long." 

Mrs.  Triplett  tossed  her  a  calendar  from  the  desk. 

"Count  it  up  for  yourself,"  she  said.  "She  left 
two  days  before  your  birthday  and  this  is  the  Wed- 
nesday after." 

While  Mrs.  Triplett  began  her  letter  Georgina 
studied  the  calendar,  putting  her  finger  on  a  date  as 
she  recalled  the  various  happenings  of  it.  Each  day 
had  been  long  and  full.  That  one  afternoon  when 
she  and  Richard  found  the  paper  in  the  rifle  seemed 
an  age  in  itself.  It  seemed  months  since  they  had 
promised  Belle  and  Uncle  Darcy  to  keep  the  secret. 


,  What  the  Storm  Did  177 

She  glanced  up,  about  to  say  so,  then  bit  her 
tongue,  startled  at  having  so  nearly  betrayed  the  fact 
of  their  having  a  secret.  Then  the  thought  came  to 
her  that  Emmett's  sin  had  found  him  out  in  as  strange 
a  way  as  that  of  the  man  who  talked  in  his  sleep  or 
the  chicken  thief  to  whom  the  feather  clung.  It  was 
one  more  proof  added  to  the  forty  in  Aunt  Letty's 
book.  Richard's  positiveness  made  a  deeper  im- 
pression on  her  than  she  liked  to  acknowledge.  She 
shut  her  eyes  a  moment,  squinting  them  up  so  tight 
that  her  eyelids  wrinkled,  and  hoped  as  hard  as  she 
could  hope  that  everything  would  turn  out  all  right. 

"What  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you,  child?" 
exclaimed  Tippy,  looking  up  from  her  letter  in  time 
to  catch  Georgina  with  her  face  thus  screwed  into 
wrinkles. 

Georgina  opened  her  eyes  with  a  start. 

"Nothing,"  was  the  embarrassed  answer.  "I  was 
just  thinking." 


CHAPTER    XVII 

IN   THE   KEEPING   OF   THE   DUNES 

GCARCELY  had  Georgina  convinced  herself  by 

the  calendar  that  it  had  been  only  one  short  week 

since  Barby  went  away  instead  of  the  endlessly  long 

time  it  seemed,  than  a  letter  was  brought  in  to  her. 

"Mv  DEAR  LITTLE  RAINBOW-MAKER,"  it  began. 

"You  are  surely  a  prism  your  own  self,  for  you 
have  made  a  blessed  bright  spot  in  the  world  for  me, 
ever  since  you  came  into  it.  I  read  your  letter  to 
papa,  telling  all  about  your  birthday  and  the  prism 
Uncle  Darcy  gave  you.  It  cheered  him  up  wonder- 
fully. I  was  so  proud  of  you  when  he  said  it  was  a 
fine  letter,  and  that  he'd  have  to  engage  you  as  a 
special  correspondent  on  his  paper  some  day. 

"At  first  the  doctors  thought  his  sight  was  entirely 
destroyed,  by  the  flying  glass  of  the  broken  wind- 
shield, but  now  they  are  beginning  to  hope  that  one 
eye  at  least  may  be  saved,  and  possibly  the  other. 
Papa  is  very  doubtful  about  it  himself,  and  gets  very 
despondent  at  times.  He  had  just  been  having  an 
especially  blue  morning  when  your  letter  was  brought 
in,  and  he  said,  when  I  read  it: 

"  'That  is  a  good  line  to  live  by,  daughter,'  and  he 
178 


In  the  Keeping  of  the  Dunes       179 

had  me  get  out  his  volume  of  Milton  and  read  the 
whole  sonnet  that  the  line  is  taken  from.  The  fact 
that  Milton  was  blind  when  he  wrote  it  made  it  spe- 
cially interesting  to  him. 

"He  and  mamma  both  need  me  sorely  now  for 
a  little  while,  Baby  dear,  and  if  you  can  keep  busy  and 
happy  without  me  I'll  stay  away  a  couple  of  weeks 
longer  and  help  take  him  home  to  Kentucky,  but  I 
can't  be  contented  to  stay  unless  you  send  me  a  postal 
every  day.  If  nothing  more  is  on  it  than  your  name, 
written  by  your  own  little  fingers,  it  will  put  a  rain- 
bow around  my  troubles  and  help  me  to  be  contented 
away  from  you." 

Georgina  spent  the  rest  of  the  morning  answering 
it.  She  had  a  feeling  that  she  must  make  up  for  her 
father's  neglect  as  a  correspondent,  by  writing  often 
herself.  Maybe  the  family  at  Grandfather  Shir- 
ley's wouldn't  notice  that  there  was  never  any  letter 
with  a  Chinese  stamp  on  it,  addressed  in  a  man's  big 
hand  in  Barby's  pile  of  mail,  if  there  were  others  for 
her  to  smile  over. 

It  had  been  four  months  since  the  last  one  came. 
Georgina  had  kept  careful  count,  although  she  had 
not  betrayed  her  interest  except  in  the  wistful  way 
she  watched  Barby  when  the  postman  came.  It  made 
her  throat  ache  to  see  that  little  shadow  of  disap- 
pointment creep  into  Barby's  lovely  gray  eyes  and 
then  see  her  turn  away  with  her  lips  pressed  together 
tight  for  a  moment  before  she  began  to  hum  or  speak 


180         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

brightly  about  something  else.  No  Chinese  letter 
had  come  in  her  absence  to  be  forwarded. 

Georgina  wished  her  father  could  know  how  very 
much  Barby  cared  about  hearing  from  him.  Maybe 
if  his  attention  were  called  to  it  he  would  write 
oftener.  If  the  editor  of  a  big  newspaper  like  Grand- 
father Shirley,  thought  her  letters  were  good  enough 
to  print,  maybe  her  father  might  pay  attention  to 
one  of  them.  A  resolve  to  write  to  him  some  day 
began  to  shape  itself  in  her  mind. 

She  would  have  been  surprised  could  she  have 
known  that  already  one  of  her  epistles  was  on  its 
way  to  him.  Barby  had  sent  him  the  "rainbow  let- 
ter." For  Barby  had  not  drawn  off  silent  and  hurt 
when  his  letters  ceased  to  come,  as  many  a  woman 
would  have  done. 

"Away  off  there  in  the  interior  he  has  missed  the 
mails,"  she  told  herself.  "Or  the  messenger  he 
trusted  may  have  failed  to  post  his  letters,  or  he  may 
be  ill.  I'll  not  judge  him  until  I  know." 

After  Georgina's  letter  came  she  resolutely  put  her 
forebodings  and  misgivings  aside  many  a  time, 
prompted  by  it  to  steer  onward  so  steadily  that  hope 
must  do  as  Uncle  Darcy  said,  "make  rainbows  even 
of  her  tears." 

Georgina  wrote  on  until  dinner  time,  telling  all 
about  the  way  she  had  spent  her  birthday  dollar. 
After  dinner  when  the  sunshine  had  dried  all  traces 
of  the  previous  night's  rain,  she  persuaded  Tippy 


In  the  Keeping  of  the  Dunes       181 

that  she  was  entirely  over  the  effects  of  the  gas,  and 
perfectly  able  to  go  down  street  and  select  the  picture 
postals  with  which  to  conduct  her  daily  correspond- 
ence. 

Richard  joined  her  as  she  passed  the  bungalow. 
They  made  a  thrilling  afternoon  for  themselves  by 
whispering  to  each  other  whenever  any  strange-look- 
ing person  passed  them,  "S'pose  that  was  the  owner 
of  the  pouch  and  he  was  looking  for  us."  The  dread 
of  their  sin  finding  them  out  walked  like  a  silent- 
footed  ghost  beside  them  all  the  way,  making  the  two 
pairs  of  brown  eyes  steal  furtive  glances  at  each 
other  now  and  then,  and  delicious  little  shivers  of 
apprehension  creep  up  and  down  their  backs. 

Whether  it  was  the  passing  of  the  unseasonable 
weather  into  hot  July  sunshine  again  or  whether  the 
wild-cat  liniment  was  responsible,  no  one  undertook 
to  say,  but  Mrs.  Triplett's  rheumatism  left  her  sud- 
denly, and  at  a  time  when  she  was  specially  glad  to  be 
rid  of  it.  The  Sewing  Circle,  to  which  she  belonged, 
was  preparing  for  a  bazaar  at  the  Church  of  the 
Pilgrims,  and  her  part  in  it  would  keep  her  away 
from  home  most  of  the  time  for  three  days. 

That  is  why  Georgina  had  unlimited  freedom  for 
a  while.  She  was  left  in  Belle's  charge,  and  Belle, 
still  brooding  over  her  troubles,  listlessly  assented  to 
anything  proposed  to  her.  Belle  had  been  allowed  to 
go  and  come  as  she  pleased  when  she  was  ten,  and 


182         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

she  saw  no  reason  why  Georgina  was  not  equally 
capable  of  taking  care  of  herself. 

Hardly  was  Mrs.  Triplett  out  of  sight  that  first 
morning  when  Georgina  slipped  out  of  the  back  gate 
with  a  long  brass-handled  fire-shovel,  to  meet  Rich- 
ard out  on  the  dunes.  He  brought  a  hoe,  and  in  his 
hand  was  the  little  compass  imbedded  in  the  nut. 

When  all  was  ready,  according  to  Georgina's  in- 
structions, he  turned  around  three  times,  then  facing 
the  east  tossed  the  compass  over  his  shoulder,  say- 
ing solemnly,  "Brother,  go  find  your  brother."  She 
stood  ready  to  mark  the  spot  when  it  should  fall,  but 
Captain  Kidd  was  ahead  of  her  and  had  the  nut  in 
his  teeth  before  she  could  reach  the  place  where  it 
had  touched  the  ground.  So  Richard  took  the  nut 
away  and  held  the  agitated  little  terrier  by  the  collar 
while  Georgina  went  through  the  same  ceremony. 

This  time  Richard  reached  the  nut  before  the  dog, 
and  drew  a  circle  around  the  spot  where  it  had  lain. 
Then  he  began  digging  into  the  sand  with  the  hoe  so 
industriously  that  Captain  Kidd  was  moved  to  frantic 
barking. 

"Here,  get  to  work  yourself  and  keep  quiet,"  or- 
dered Richard.  "Rats !  You'll  have  Cousin  James 
coming  out  to  see  what  we're  doing,  first  thing  you 
know.  He  thinks  something  is  the  matter  now,  every 
time  you  bark.  Rats  1 1  say." 

The  magic  word  had  its  effect.    After  an  instant 


In  the  Keeping  of  the  Dunes       183 

of  quivering  eagerness  the  dog  pounced  into  the  hole 
which  Richard  had  started,  and  sent  the  sand  flying 
furiously  around  him  with  his  active  little  paws. 
Georgina  dragged  the  accumulating  piles  aside  with 
the  fire-shovel  on  one  side,  and  Richard  plied  the  hoe 
on  the  other.  When  the  hole  grew  too  deep  for  Cap- 
tain Kidd  to  dig  in  longer,  Richard  stepped  in  and 
went  deeper.  But  it  was  unsatisfactory  work.  The 
shifting  sand,  dry  as  powder  at  this  depth,  was  con- 
stantly caving  inland  filling  up  the  space. 

They  tried  making  new  holes,  to  the  north  of  the 
old  one,  then  to  the  south,  then  on  the  remaining 
sides.  They  were  still  at  it  when  the  whistle  at  the 
cold-storage  plant  blew  for  noon.  Georgina  rubbed 
a  sleeve  across  her  red,  perspiring  face,  and  shook 
the  ends  of  her  curls  up  and  down  to  cool  her  hot 
neck. 

"I  don't  see  how  we  can  dig  any  more  to-day,"  she 
said  wearily.  "The  sun  is  blistering.  I  feel  all 
scorched." 

"I've  had  enough,"  confessed  Richard.  "But 
we've  got  to  find  that  pouch." 

After  a  moment's  rest,  leaning  on  the  hoe-handle, 
he  had  an  inspiration.  "Let's  get  Manuel  and  Joseph 
and  Rosa  to  help  us.  They'd  dig  all  day  for  a 
nickel." 

"I  haven't  one  nickel  left,"  said  Georgina.  Then 
she  thought  a  moment.  "But  I  could  bring  some 
jelly-roll.  Those  Fayals  would  dig  for  eats  as  quick 


184         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

as  they  would  for  money.  I'll  tell  Belle  we're  going 
to  have  a  sort  of  a  picnic  over  here  and  she'll  let  me 
bring  all  that's  left  in  the  cake  box." 

Richard  investigated  his  pockets.  A  solitary  nickel 
was  all  he  could  turn  out.  "Two  cents  for  each  of 
the  boys  and  one  for  Rosa,"  he  said,  but  Georgina 
shook  her  head. 

"Rosa  would  make  trouble  if  you  divided  that 
way.  She'd  howl  till  somebody  came  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  But  we  could  do  this  way.  The 
one  who  gets  the  least  money  gets  the  most  jelly- 
roll.  We'll  wait  till  the  digging  is  over  and  then  let 
them  divide  it  to  suit  themselves." 

By  five  o'clock  that  afternoon,  the  compass  had 
been  sent  to  "hunt  brother"  in  a  hundred  different 
places,  and  the  hollow  circled  by  the  bayberry  bushes 
and  beach  plums  where  the  pouch  had  been  hidden 
filled  with  deep  holes.  Captain  Kidd  had  responded 
to  the  repeated  call  of  "Rats"  until  the  magic  word 
had  lost  all  charm  for  him.  Even  a  dog  comes  to 
understand  in  time  when  a  fellow  creature  has  "an 
axe  to  grind."  Finally,  he  went  off  and  lay  down, 
merely  wagging  his  tail  in  a  bored  way  when  any 
further  effort  was  made  to  arouse  his  enthusiasm. 

The  Fayal  children,  working  valiantly  in  the 
trenches,  laid  down  arms  at  last  and  strolled  home, 
their  fa^es  streaked  with  jelly-roll,  and  Georgina 
went  wearily  up  the  beach,  dragging  her  fire-shovel 
after  her.  She  felt  that  she  had  had  enough  of  the 


In  the  Keeping  of  the  Dunes       185 

dunes  to  last  her  the  rest  of  her  natural  lifetime.  She 
seemed  to  see  piles  of  sand  even  when  she  looked  at 
the  water  or  when  her  eyes  were  shut. 

"But  we  won't  give  up,"  she  said  staunchly  as  she 
parted  from  Richard.  "We're  obliged  to  find  that 
pouch,  so  we've  got  to  keep  hope  at  the  prow." 

"Pity  all  this  good  digging  has  to  be  wasted,"  said 
Richard,  looking  around  at  the  various  holes.  "If 
it  had  all  been  in  one  place,  straight  down,  it  would 
have  been  deep  enough  to  strike  a  pirate's  chest  by 
this  time.  I  hope  they'll  fill  up  before  anybody  comes 
this  way  to  notice  them." 

"Somehow,  I'm  not  so  anxious  as  I  was  to  go  off 
'a-piratin'  so  bold,'  "  said  Georgina  with  a  tired  sigh. 
"I've  had  enough  digging  to  last  me  forever  and  al- 
ways, amen." 

The  Fayal  children,  surfeited  with  one  afternoon 
of  such  effort,  and  not  altogether  satisfied  as  to  the 
division  of  wages  which  had  led  to  war  in  their 
midst,  did  not  come  back  to  the  Place  of  the  Pouch 
next  morning,  but  Richard  and  Georgina  appeared 
promptly,  albeit  with  sore  muscles  and  ebbing  en- 
thusiasm. Only  stern  necessity  and  fear  of  conse- 
quences kept  them  at  their  task. 

Cousin  James  had  reported  that  there  was  a  fish- 
ing vessel  in  that  morning  with  two  enormous  horse 
mackerel  in  the  catch,  which  were  to  be  cut  up  and 
salted  at  Railroad  wharf.  It  was  deliciously  cool 
down  on  the  wharf,  with  the  breeze  blowing  off  the 


i86        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

water  through  the  great  packing  shed,  and  the  white 
sails  scudding  past  the  open  doors  like  fans.  With 
Mrs.  Triplett  busy  with  the  affairs  of  the  Bazaar, 
it  would  have  been  a  wonderful  opportunity  for 
Georgina  to  have  gone  loitering  along  the  p;^r, 
watching  the  summer  people  start  off  in  motor  boats 
or  spread  themselves  lazily  under  flapping  sails  for 
a  trip  around  the  harbor. 

But  something  of  the  grim  spirit  of  their  ances- 
tors, typified  by  the  monument  looking  down  on  them 
from  the  hill,  nerved  both  Richard  and  Georgina  one 
more  time  to  answer  to  the  stern  call  of  Duty. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

FOUND   OUT 

**T  DREAMED  about  that  old  pouch  last  night," 

•*•  said  Richard  in  one  of  the  intervals  of  rest 
which  they  allowed  themselves. 

"I  dreamed  that  it  belonged  to  a  Chinese  man 
with  crooked,  yellow  finger-nails  a  foot  long.  He 
came  and  stood  over  my  bed  and  said  that  because 
there  was  important  news  in  that  letter  and  we  buried 
it,  and  kept  it  from  going  to  where  it  ought  to  go,  we 
had  to  be  buried  alive.  And  he  picked  me  up  like  I 
was  that  nut  and  tossed  me  over  his  shoulder,  and 
said,  'Brother,  go  find  your  brother.'  And  I  began 
sinking  down  in  the  sand  deeper  and  deeper  until  I 
began  to  smother." 

Georgina  made  no  answer.  The  dream  did  not 
impress  her  as  being  at  all  terrifying.  She  had  swung 
her  prism  around  her  neck  that  morning  when  she 
dressed,  and  now  while  she  rested  she  amused  her- 
self by  flashing  the  bars  of  color  across  Captain  Kidd. 
Richard  resented  her  lack  of  interest. 

"Well,  it  may  not  sound  very  bad  out  here  in  the 
daylight,  but  you  ought  to  have  had  it.  I  yelled  until 
Daddy  shook  me  and  told  me  I'd  wake  up  the  whole 

187 


i88         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

end  of  town  with  such  a  nightmare.  If  you'd  have 
seen  thaj:  old  Chinaman's  face  like  a  dragon's,  you'd 
understand  why  I  feel  that  we've  just  got  to  find  that 
pouch.  It's  going  to  get  us  into  some  kind  of  trouble, 
certain  sure,  if  we  don't." 

Georgina  rose  to  begin  digging  again.  "It's  lucky 
nobody  ever  conies  this  way  to  see  all  these  holes," 
she  began,  but  stopped  with  her  shovel  half  lifted.  A 
familiar  voice  from  the  circle  of  bushes  at  the  top  of 
the  dune  called  down  cheerily: 

"Ship  ahoy,  mates.  What  port  are  you  bound  for 
now?  Digging  through  to  China?" 

"It's  Uncle  Darcy!"  they  exclaimed  in  the  same 
breath.  He  came  plunging  down  the  side  of  the  dune 
before  they  could  recover  from  their  confusion. 
There  was  a  pail  of  blueberries  in  each  hand.  He 
had  been  down  the  state  road  picking  them,  and  was 
now  on  his  way  to  the  Gray  Inn  to  sell  them  to  the 
housekeeper.  Leaving  the  pails  in  a  level  spot  under 
the  shade  of  a  scrubby  bush,  he  came  on  to  where 
the  children  were  standing,  and  eased  himself  stiffly 
down  to  a  seat  on  the  sand.  It  amused  him  to  see 
their  evident  embarrassment,  and  his  eyes  twinkled 
as  he  inquired: 

"What  mischief  are  you  up  to  now,  digging  all 
those  gopher  holes?" 

Neither  answered  for  a  moment,  then  Georgina 
gulped  and  found  her  voice.  "It's — it's  a  secret," 
she  managed  to  say. 


Found  Out  189 

"Oh,"  he  answered,  growing  instantly  grave  at  the 
sound  of  that  word.  "Then  I  mustn't  ask  any  ques- 
tions. We  must  always  keep  our  secrets.  Some- 
times it's  a  pity  though,  when  one  has  to  promise  to 
do  so.  I  hope  yours  isn't  the  burden  to  you  that  mine 
is  to  me." 

This  was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken  to  them  of 
the  promise  they  had  made  to  him  and  Belle.  With 
a  look  all  around  as  if  to  make  certain  the  coast  was 
clear,  he  said: 

"There's  something  I've  been  wanting  to  say  to 
you  children  ever  since  that  day  you  had  the  rifle, 
and  now's  as  good  a  chance  as  any.  I  want  you  to 
know  that  I  never  would  have  promised  what  I  did 
if  it  could  have  made  any  possible  difference  to 
Mother.  But  lately  she  seems  all  confused  about 
Danny's  trouble.  She  seerns  to  have  forgotten  there 
was  any  trouble  except  that  he  went  away  from  home. 
For  months  she's  been  looking  for  him  to  walk  in 
most  any  day. 

"Ever  since  I  gave  my  word  to  Belle,  I've  been 
studying  over  the  right  and  wrong  of  it.  I  felt  I 
wasn't  acting  fair  to  Danny.  But  now  it's  clear  in 
my  mind  that  it  was  the  right  thing  to  do.  I  argue 
it  this  way.  Danny  cared  so  much  about  saving  Em- 
mett  from  disgrace  and  Belle  from  the  pain  of  find- 
Ing  it  out,  that  he  was  willing  to  give  up  his  home 
and  good  name  and  everything.  Now  it  wouldn't  be 
fair  to  him  to  make  that  sacrifice  in  vain  by  telling 


190         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

while  it  can  still  be  such  a  death-blow  to  Emmett's 
father  and  hurt  Belle  much  as  ever.  She's  gone  on 
all  these  years  fairly  worshiping  Emmett's  memory 
for  being  such  a  hero." 

Uncle  Darcy  stopped  suddenly  and  seemed  to  be 
drawn  far  away  from  them  as  if  he  had  gone  inside 
of  himself  with  his  own  thoughts  and  forgotten  their 
presence.  Georgina  sat  and  fanned  herself  with  her 
shade  hat.  Richard  fumbled  with  the  little  compass, 
rolling  it  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  without  giving 
any  thought  to  what  he  was  doing.  Presently  it 
rolled  away  from  him  and  Captain  Kidd  darted  after 
it,  striking  it  with  his  forepaws  as  he  landed  on  it, 
and  thus  rolling  it  still  farther  till  it  stopped  at  the 
old  man's  feet. 

Recalled  to  his  surroundings  in  this  way,  Uncle 
Darcy  glanced  at  the  object  indifferently,  but  some- 
thing strangely  familiar  in  its  appearance  made  him 
lean  closer  and  give  it  another  look.  He  picked  it 
up,  examining  it  eagerly.  Then  he  stood  up  and 
gazed  all  around  as  if  it  had  dropped  from  the  sky 
and  he  expected  to  see  the  hand  that  had  dropped  it. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  he  demanded  huskily, 
in  such  a  queer,  breathless  way  that  Richard  thought 
his  day  of  reckoning  had  come.  His  sin  had  found 
him  out.  He  looked  at  Georgina  helplessly. 

"Yes,  tell!"  she  exclaimed,  answering  his  look. 

"I — I — just  played  it  was  mine,"  he  began. 
**  'Cause  the  initials  on  it  are  the  same  as  mine  when 


Found  Out  191 

we  play  pirate  and  I'm  Dare-devil  Dick.  I  was  only 
going  to  keep  it  till  we  dug  up  the  pouch  again.  We 
were  keeping  it  to  help  find  the  pouch  like  Tom  Saw- 
yer did " 

It  seemed  to  Richard  that  Uncle  Darcy's  hand, 
clutching  his  shoulder,  was  even  more  threatening 
than  the  Chinaman's  of  his  nightmare,  and  his  voice 
more  imperative. 

"Tell  me!  Where  did  you  get  it?  That's  my 
compass!  I  scratched  those  letters  on  that  nut. 
'D.  D.'  stands  for  Dan'l  Darcy.  I  brought  it  home 
from  my  last  voyage.  'Twas  a  good-luck  nut  they 
told  me  in  the  last  port  I  sailed  from.  It  was  one 
of  the  first  things  Danny  ever  played  with.  There's 
the  marks  of  his  first  little  tooth  under  those  letters. 
I  gave  it  to  him  when  he  got  old  enough  to  claim  it, 
for  the  letters  were  his,  too.  He  always  carried  it 
in  his  pocket  and  he  had  it  with  him  when  he  went 
away.  For  the  love  of  heaven,  child,  tell  me  where 
you  found  it?" 

The  hand  which  clutched  Richard's  shoulder  was 
shaking  as  violently  as  it  had  the  day  the  old  rifle 
gave  up  its  secret,  and  Richard,  feeling  the  same  un- 
namable  terror  he  had  felt  in  his  nightmare,  could 
only  stammer,  "I — I  don't  know.  Captain  Kidd 
found  it." 

Then  all  three  of  them  started  violently,  for  a 
hearty  voice  just  behind  them  called  out  unexpect- 
edly: 


192         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Hullo,  what's  all  the  excitement  about?" 

It  was  Captain  James  Milford,  who  had  strolled 
down  from  the  bungalow,  his  hat  stuck  jauntily  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
A  few  moments  before  he  had  been  scanning  the 
harbor  through  a  long  spy-glass,  and  happening  to 
turn  it  towards  the  dunes  had  seen  the  two  children 
digging  diligently  with  shovel  and  hoe. 

"Looks  as  if  they'd  started  to  honey-comb  the 
whole  Cape  with  holes,"  he  thought.  "Curious  how 
many  things  kids  of  that  age  can  think  of.  It  might 
be  well  to  step  down  and  see  what  they're  about." 

He  put  up  the  spy-glass  and  started  down,  ap- 
proaching them  on  one  side  as  the  Towncrier  reached 
them  on  the  other. 

"Now  for  a  yarn  that'll  make  their  eyes  stand 
out,"  he  thought  with  a  smile  as  he  saw  the  old  man 
sit  down  on  the  sand. 

"Wonder  if  it  would  sound  as  thrilling  now  as  it 
did  when  I  was  Dick's  age.  I  believe  I'll  just  slip 
up  and  listen  to  one  for  old  times'  sake." 

Uncle  Darcy  let  go  of  Richard's  shoulder  and 
turned  to  the  newcomer  appealingly. 

"Jimmy,"  he  said  with  a  choke  in  his  voice.  "Look 
at  this !  The  first  trace  of  my  boy  since  he  left  me, 
and  they  can't  tell  me  where  they  got  it." 

He  held  out  the  compass  and  Mr.  Milford  took  it 
from  his  trembling  fingers. 

"Why,  /  remember  this  old  trinket,  Uncle  Dan'l !" 


Found  Out  193 

exclaimed  Mr.  Milford.  "You  let  me  carry  it  in 
my  pocket  one  day  when  I  was  no  bigger  than  Dicky, 
here,  when  you  took  me  fishing  with  you.  I  thought 
it  was  responsible  for  my  luck,  for  I  made  my  first 
big  catch  that  day.  Got  a  mackerel  that  I  bragged 
about  all  season." 

Uncle  Darcy  seized  the  man's  arm  with  the  same 
desperate  grip  which  had  held  the  boy's. 

"You  don't  seem  to  understand!"  he  exclaimed. 
"I'm  trying  to  tell  you  that  Danny  is  mixed  up  with 
this  in  some  way.  Either  he's  been  near  here  or 
somebody  else  has  who's  seen  him.  He  had  this  with 
him  when  he  went  away,  I  tell  you.  These  children 
say  they  took  it  out  of  a  pouch  that  the  dog  found. 
Help  me,  Jimmy.  I  can't  seem  to  think " 

He  sat  weakly  down  on  the  sand  again,  his  head  in 
his  hands,  and  Mr.  Milford,  deeply  interested, 
turned  to  the  children.  His  questions  called  out  a 
confusing  and  involved  account,  told  piecemeal  by 
Georgina  and  Richard  in  turn. 

"Hold  on,  now,  let's  get  the  straight  of  this,"  he 
interrupted,  growing  more  bewildered  as  the  story 
proceeded.  "What  was  in  the  pouch  besides  the 
gold  pieces,  the  other  money  and  this  compass?" 

"A  letter  with  a  foreign  stamp  on  it,"  answered 
Richard.  "I  noticed  specially,  because  I  have  a 
stamp  almost  like  it  in  my  album." 

On  being  closely  cross-questioned  he  could  not 
say  positively  to  what  country  the  stamp  belonged. 


194         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

He  thought  it  was  Siam  or  China.  Georgina  re- 
called several  names  of  towns  partially  scratched 
out  on  the  back  of  the  envelope,  and  the  word  Texas. 
She  was  sure  of  that  and  of  "Mass."  and  of  "Mrs. 
Henry "  something  or  other. 

"But  the  inside  of  the  letter,"  persisted  Mr.  Mil- 
ford.  "Didn't  you  try  to  read  that  ?" 

"Course  not,"  said  Georgina,  her  head  indignantly 
high.  "We  only  looked  at  each  end  of  it  to  see  if  the 
person's  name  was  on  it,  but  it  began,  'Dear  friend,' 
and  ended,  'Your  grateful  friend  Dave.'  ' 

"So  the  letter  was  addressed  'Mrs.,' "  began  Mr. 
Milford,  musingly,  "but  was  in  a  tobacco  pouch. 
The  first  fact  argues  that  a  woman  lost  it,  the  last 
that  it  was  a  man." 

"But  it  didn't  smell  of  tobacco,"  volunteered 
Georgina.  "It  was  nice  and  clean  only  where  Cap- 
tain Kidd  chewed  the  string." 

"I  suppose  it  didn't  have  any  smell  at  all,"  said 
Mr.  Milford,  not  as  if  he  expected  anyone  to  re- 
member, but  that  he  happened  to  think  of  it.  A 
slowly  dawning  recollection  began  to  brighten  in 
Georgina's  eyes. 

"But  it  did  have  a  smell,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  re- 
member it  perfectly  well  now.  Don't  you  know, 
Richard,  when  you  were  untying  it  at  the  top  of  the 
steps  I  said  'Phew !  that  makes  me  think  of  the  lini- 
ment I  bought  from  the  wild-cat  woman  last  night,' 
I  had  to  hold  the  bottle  in  my  lap  all  the  time  we 
were  at  the  moving  picture  show  so  I  had  a  chance 


Found  Out  195 

to  get  pretty  well  acquainted  with  that  smell.  And 
afterwards  when  we  were  wrapping  the  tin  foil 
around  the  pouch,  getting  ready  to  bury  it  we  both 
turned  up  our  noses  at  the  way  it  smelled.  It  seemed 
stronger  when  the  sun  shone  on  it." 

"The  wild-cat  woman,"  repeated  Mr.  Milford, 
turning  on  Georgina.  "Where  was  she?  What  did 
you  have  to  do  with  her?  Was  the  dog  with  you?" 

Little  by  little  they  began  to  recall  the  evening, 
how  they  had  started  to  the  show  with  the  Fayal 
family  and  turned  aside  to  hear  the  patent  medicine 
man  sing,  how  Richard  and  Georgina  had  dared  each 
other  to  touch  the  wild-cat's  tail  through  the  bars, 
and  how  Georgina  in  climbing  down  from  the  wheel 
had  stumbled  over  Captain  Kidd  whom  they  thought 
safely  shut  up  at  home. 

"I  believe  we've  found  a  clue,"  said  Mr.  Milford 
at  last.  "If  anybody  in  town  had  lost  it  there'd  have 
been  a  notice  put  up  in  the  post-office  or  the  owner 
would  have  been  around  for  you  to  cry  it,  Uncle 
Dan'l.  But  if  it's  the  wild-cat  woman's  she  probably 
did  not  discover  her  loss  till  she  was  well  out  of  town, 
and  maybe  not  until  she  reached  her  next  stopping- 
place." 

"There's  been  nothing  of  the  sort  posted  on  the 
bulletin  board  at  the  post-office,"  said  the  old  man. 
"I  always  glance  in  at  it  every  morning." 

Mr.  Milford  looked  at  him  thoughtfully  as  if  con- 
sidering something.  Then  he  said  slowly: 


196        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Uncle  Dan'l,  just  how  much  would  it  mean  to 
you  to  find  the  owner  of  that  pouch?" 

"Why,  Jimmy,"  was  the  tremulous  answer,  "if  it 
led  to  any  trace  of  my  boy  it  would  be  the  one  great 
hope  of  my  life  realized." 

"You  are  quite  sure  that  you  want  to  bring  him 
back?  That  it  would  be  best  for  all  concerned?" 
he  continued  meaningly. 

There  was  a  silence,  then  the  old  man  answered 
with  dignity : 

"I  know  what  you're  thinking  of,  and  considering 
all  that's  gone  before,  I'm  not  blaming  you,  but  I  can 
tell  you  this,  Jimmy  Milford.  If  the  town  could 
know  all  that  I  know  it'd  be  glad  and  proud  to  have 
my  boy  brought  back  to  it." 

He  smote  the  fist  of  one  hand  into  the  palm  of  the 
other  and  looked  about  like  something  trapped,  seek- 
ing escape. 

"It  isn't  fair !"  he  exclaimed.  "It  isn't  fair !  Him 
worthy  to  hold  up  his  head  with  the  best  of  them,  and 
me  bound  not  to  tell.  But  I've  given  my  promise," 
he  added,  shaking  his  head  slowly  from  side  to  side. 
"I  s'pose  it'll  all  work  out  for  the  best,  somehow,  in 
the  Lord's  own  good  time,  but  I  can't  seem  to  see 
the  justice  in  it  now." 

He  sat  staring  dejectedly  ahead  of  him  with  dim, 
appealing  eyes. 

The  younger  man  took  a  step  forward  and  laid 
an  arm  across  the  bent  shoulders. 


Found  Out 


197 


"All  right,  Uncle  Dan'l,"  he  said  heartily.  "If 
there's  anything  under  the  sun  I  can  do  to  help  you 
I'm  going  to  do  it,  beginning  right  now.  Come  on 
up  to  the  house  and  I'll  begin  this  Sherlock  Holmes 
business  by  telephoning  down  the  Cape  to  every  town 
on  it  till  we  locate  this  wild-cat  liniment  wagon,  and 
then  we'll  get  after  it  as  fast  as  the  best  automobile 
in  Provincetown  can  take  us." 


CHAPTER   XIX 

TRACING   THE    LINIMENT   WAGON 

Wellfleet,  to  Orleans,  to  Chatham  went  the 
telephone  call,  to  Harwichport  and  then  back 
again  to  the  little  towns  on  the  bay  side  of  the  Cape, 
for  the  wild-cat  and  its  keepers  did  not  follow  a 
straight  course  in  their  meanderings.  It  was  some 
time  before  Mr.  Milford  succeeded  in  locating  them. 
At  last  he  hung  up  the  receiver  announcing: 

"They  showed  in  Orleans  last  night  all  right,  but 
it  wasn't  the  road  to  Chatham  they  took  out  of  there 
this  morning.  It  was  to.  Brewster.  We  can  easily 
overtake  them  somewhere  along  in  that  direction  and 
get  back  home  before  dark." 

There  was  one  ecstatic  moment  for  Georgina  when 
it  was  made  clear  to  her  that  she  was  included  in 
that  "we";  that  she  was  actually  to  have  a  share  in 
an  automobile  chase  like  the  ones  that  had  thrilled 
her  in  the  movies.  But  that  moment  was  soon  over. 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  do  about  leaving  Mother," 
began  Uncle  Darcy  in  a  troubled  voice.  "She's  feel- 
ing uncommon  poorly  to-day — she's  in  bed  and  can't 
seem  to  remember  anything  longer  than  you're  tell- 
ing it.  Mrs.  Saggs  came  in  to  sit  with  her  while  I 

198 


Tracing  the  Liniment  Wagon      199 

was  out  blueberrying,  but  she  said  she  couldn't  stay 
past  ten  o'clock.  She  has  company  coming." 

"Couldn't  you  get  some  of  the  other  neighbors  to 
come  in  for  the  few  hours  you'd  be  away?"  asked 
Mr.  Milford.  "It's  important  you  should  follow  up 
this  clue  yourself." 

"No,  Mrs.  Saggs  is  the  only  one  who  keeps 
Mother  from  fretting  when  I'm  away  from  her. 
Her  side  window  looks  right  into  our  front  yard,  and 
ordinarily  it  would  be  enough  just  for  her  to  call 
across  to  her  now  and  then,  but  it  wouldn't  do  to-day, 
Mother  not  being  as  well  as  common.  She'd  forget 
where  I  was  gone  and  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  her 
lying  there  frightened  and  worried  and  not  remem- 
bering why  I  had  left  her  alone.  She's  like  a  child 
at  times.  You  know  how  it  is,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Georgina.  "Not  flighty,  but  just  needing  to  be 
soothed  and  talked  to." 

Georgina  nodded.  She  knew,  for  on  several  oc- 
casions she  had  sat  beside  Aunt  Elspeth  when  she 
was  in  such  a  mood,  and  had  quieted  and  pleased 
her  with  little  songs  and  simple  rhymes.  She  knew 
she  could  do  it  again  to-day  as  effectually  as  Mrs. 
Saggs,  if  it  wasn't  for  giving  up  that  exciting  motor 
chase  after  the  wild-cat  woman.  It  seemed  to  her 
a  greater  sacrifice  than  flesh  and  blood  should  be 
called  upon  to  make.  She  sat  on  the  porch  step, 
twirling  her  prism  carelessly  on  its  pink  ribbon  while 
she  waited  for  the  machine  to  be  brought  around. 


2OO         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Then  she  climbed  into  the  back  seat  with  Uncle  Darcy 
and  the  two  pails  of  blueberries,  while  Richard  set- 
tled himself  and  Captain  Kidd  in  front  with  his 
Cousin  James. 

They  whirled  up  to  the  Gray  Inn  to  leave  the  blue- 
berries, and  then  around  down  Bradford  Street  to 
Fishburn  Court  to  attempt  to  explain  to  Aunt  Els- 
peth.  On  the  way  they  passed  the  Pilgrim  monu- 
ment. Georgina  tried  not  to  look  at  it,  but  she 
couldn't  help  glancing  up  at  it  from  the  corner  of 
her  eye. 

"You  must,"  it  seemed  to  say  to  her. 

"I  won't,"  she  as  silently  answered  back. 

"It's  your  duty,"  it  reminded  her,  "and  the  idea  of 
a  descendant  of  one  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  and  one 
of  the  Minute-men  shirking  her  duty.  A  pretty  mem- 
ber of  the  Rainbow  Club  you  are,"  it  scoffed. 

They  whirled  by  the  grim  monster  of  a  monument 
quickly,  but  Georgina  felt  impelled  to  turn  and  look 
back  at  it,  her  gaze  following  it  up  higher  and  higher, 
above  the  gargoyles,  to  the  tipmost  stones  which 
seemed  to  touch  the  sky. 

"I  hate  that  word  Duty,"  she  said  savagely  to 
herself.  "It's  as  big  and  ugly  and  as  always-in-f ront- 
of-you  as  that  old  monument.  They're  exactly  alike. 
You  can't  help  seeing  them  no  matter  which  way  you 
look  or  how  hard  you  try  not  to." 

At  the  gate  she  tried  to  put  the  obnoxious  word 
out  of  her  mind  by  leaning  luxuriously  back  in  the 


Tracing  the  Liniment  Wagon     201 

car  and  looking  up  at  the  chimney  tops  while  Uncle 
Darcy  stepped  out  and  went  into  the  house.  He  came 
out  again  almost  immediately,  crossed  the  little  front 
yard  and  put  his  head  in  at  Mrs.  Saggs'  side  win- 
dow. After  a  short  conversation  with  her  he  came 
out  to  the  gate  and  stood  irresolutely  fingering  the 
latch. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  he  repeated,  his  voice 
even  more  troubled  than  before.  "Mother's  asleep 
now.  Mrs.  Saggs  says  she'll  go  over  at  twelve  and 
take  her  her  tea,  but — I  can't  help  feeling  I  ought 
not  to  leave  her  alone  for  so  long.  Couldn't  you 
manage  without  me?" 

And  then,  Georgina  inwardly  protesting,  "I  don't 
want  to  and  I  won't,"  found  herself  stepping  out  of 
the  car,  and  heard  her  own  voice  saying  sweetly : 

"I'll  stay  with  Aunt  Elspeth,  Uncle  Darcy.  I  can 
keep  her  from  fretting." 

A  smile  of  relief  broke  over  the  old  man's  face 
and  he  said  heartily: 

"Why,  of  course  you  can,  honey.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  me  to  ask  a  little  lass  like  you  to  stop  and 
care  for  her,  but  you  can  do  it  better  than  anybody 
else,  because  Mother's  so  fond  of  you." 

Neither  had  it  occurred  to  him  or  to  either  of  the 
others  that  it  was  a  sacrifice  for  her  to  give  up  this 
ride.  There  was  not  a  word  from  anyone  about  its 
being  a  noble  thing  for  her  to  do.  Mr.  Milford,  in 
a  hurry  to  be  off,  merely  nodded  his  satisfaction  at 


2O2         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

having  the  matter  arranged  so  quickly.  Uncle  Darcy 
stepped  back  to  the  window  for  a  parting  word  with 
Mrs.  Saggs. 

"She'll  keep  an  ear  out  for  you,  Georgina,"  he 
said  as  he  went  back  to  the  car.  "Just  call  her  if  you 
want  her  for  any  reason.  There's  plenty  cooked  in 
the  cupboard  for  your  dinner,  and  Mrs.  Saggs  will 
tend  to  Mother's  tea  when  the  time  comes.  When 
she  wakes  up  and  asks  for  me  best  not  tell  her  I'm 
out  of  town.  Just  say  I'll  be  back  bye  and  bye,  and 
humor  her  along  that  way." 

And  then  they  were  off  with  a  whirr  and  a  clang 
that  sent  the  chickens  in  the  road  scattering  in  every 
direction.  Georgina  was  left  standing  by  the  gate 
thinking,  "What  made  me  do  it?  What  made  me 
do  it?  I  don't  want  to  stay  one  bit." 

The  odor  of  gasoline  cleared  away  and  the  usual 
Sabbath-like  stillness  settled  down  over  all  the  court. 
She  walked  slowly  across  the  shady  little  grass  plot 
to  the  front  door,  hesitated  there  a  moment,  then 
went  into  the  cottage  and  took  off  her  hat. 

A  glance  into  the  dim  bedroom  beyond  showed  her 
Aunt  Elspeth's  white  head  lying  motionless  on  her 
pillow.  The  sight  of  the  quiet  sleeper  made  her 
feel  appallingly  lonesome.  It  was  like  being  all  by 
herself  in  the  house  to  be  there  with  one  who  made 
no  sound  or  movement.  She  would  have  to  find 
something  to  do.  It  was  only  eleven  o'clock.  She 
tiptoed  out  into  the  kitchen. 


Tracing  the  Liniment  Wagon     203 

The  almanac  had  been  left  lying  on  the  table.  She 
looked  slowly  through  it,  and  was  rewarded  by  find- 
ing something  of  interest.  On  the  last  page  was  a 
column  of  riddles,  and  one  of  them  was  so  good  she 
started  to  memorize  it  so  that  she  could  propound  it 
to  Richard.  She  was  sure  he  never  could  guess  it. 
Finding  it  harder  to  remember  than  it  seemed  at  first 
glance,  she  decided  to  copy  it.  She  did  not  know 
where  to  look  for  a  sheet  of  paper,  but  remembered 
several  paper  bags  on  the  pantry  shelves,  so  she 
went  in  search  of  one.  Finding  one  with  only  a  cup- 
ful of  sugar  left  in  it,  she  tore  off  the  top  and  wrote 
the  riddle  on  that  with  a  stub  of  a  pencil  which  she 
found  on  the  table. 

While  searching  for  the  bag  she  took  an  inventory 
of  the  supplies  in  the  pantry  from  which  she  was  to 
choose  her  dinner.  When  she  had  finished  copying 
the  riddle  she  went  back  to  them.  There  were  baked 
beans  and  blueberry  pie,  cold  biscuit  and  a  dish  of 
honey. 

"I'll  get  my  dinner  now,"  she  decided,  "then  I'll 
be  ready  to  sit  with  Aunt  Elspeth  when  her  tea 
comes." 

As  Georgina  went  back  and  forth  from  table  to 
shelf  it  was  in  unconscious  imitation  of  Mrs.  Trip- 
lett's  brisk  manner.  Pattering  after  that  capable 
housekeeper  on  her  busy  rounds  as  persistently  as 
Georgina  had  done  all  her  life,  had  taught  her  to 
move  in  the  same  way.  Presently  she  discovered  that 


204         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

there  was  a  fire  laid  in  the  little  wood  stove  ready  to 
light.  The  stove  was  so  small  in  comparison  to  the 
big  kitchen  range  at  home,  that  it  appealed  to  Geor- 
gina as  a  toy  stove  might  have  done.  She  stood  look- 
ing at  it  thinking  what  fun  it  would  be  to  cook  some- 
thing on  it  all  by  herself  with  no  Tippy  standing  by 
to  say  do  this  or  don't  do  the  other. 

"I  think  I  ought  to  be  allowed  to  have  some  fun 
to  make  up  for  my  disappointment,"  she  said  to  her- 
self as  the  temptation  grew  stronger  and  stronger. 

"I  could  cook  me  an  egg.  Tippy  lets  me  beat  them 
but  she  never  lets  me  break  them  and  I've  always 
wanted  to  break  one  and  let  it  go  plunk  into  the 
pan." 

She  did  not  resist  the  temptation  long.  There  was 
the  sputter  of  a  match,  the  puff  of  a  flame,  and  the 
little  stove  was  roaring  away  so  effectively  that  one 
of  old  Jeremy's  sayings  rose  to  her  lips.  Jeremy  had 
a  proverb  for  everything. 

"Little  pot,  soon  hot,"  she  said  out  loud,  gleefully, 
and  reached  into  the  cupboard  for  the  crock  of  bran 
in  which  the  eggs  were  kept.  Then  Georgina's  skill 
as  an  actor  showed  itself  again,  although  she  was  not 
conscious  of  imitating  anyone.  In  Tippy's  best  man- 
ner she  wiped  out  the  frying-pan,  settled  it  in  a  hot 
place  on  the  stove,  dropped  in  a  bit  of  butter. 

With  the  assured  air  of  one  who  has  had  long 
practice,  she  picked  up  an  egg  and  gave  it  a  sharp 
crack  on  the  edge  of  the  pan,  expecting  it  to  part 


Tracing  the  Liniment  Wagon      205 

evenly  into  halves  and  its  contents  to  glide  properly 
into  the  butter.  It  looked  so  alluringly  simple  and 
easy  that  she  had  always  resented  Tippy's  saying 
she  would  make  a  mess  of  it  if  she  tried  to  do  it.  But 
mess  was  the  only  name  which  could  be  given  to  what 
poured  out  on  the  top  of  the  stove  as  her  fingers 
went  crashing  through  the  shell  and  into  the  slimy 
feeling  contents.  The  broken  yolk  dripped  from  her 
hands,  and  in  the  one  instant  she  stood  holding  them 
out  from  her  in  disgust,  all  the  rest  of  the  egg  which 
had  gone  sliding  over  the  stove,  cooked,  scorched  and 
turned  to  a  cinder. 

The  smell  and  smoke  of  the  burning  egg  rose  to 
the  ceiling  and  filled  the  room.  Georgina  sprang  to 
close  the  door  so  that  the  odor  would  not  rouse  Aunt 
Elspeth,  and  then  with  carving  knife  and  stove-lid 
lifter,  she  scraped  the  charred  remains  into  the  fire. 

"And  it  looked  so  easy,"  she  mourned.  "Maybe  I 
didn't  whack  it  quickly  enough.  I'm  going  to  try 
again."  She  felt  into  the  bran  for  another  egg.  This 
time  she  struck  the  shell  so  hard  that  its  contents 
splashed  out  sideways  with  an  unexpected  squirt  and 
slid  to  the  floor.  She  was  ready  to  cry  as  she  wiped 
up  the  slippery  stuff,  but  there  came  to  her  mind  some 
verses  which  Tippy  had  taught  her  long  ago.  And 
so  determined  had  Tippy  been  for  her  to  learn  them, 
that  she  offered  the  inducement  of  a  string  of  blue 
beads.  The  name  of  the  poem  was  "Perseverance," 
and  it  began : 


206        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Here's  a  lesson  all  should  heed 

Try,  try  again. 
If  at  first  you  don't  succeed, 

Try,  try  again" 

and  it  ended, 

"That  which  other  folks  can  do 
Why  with  patience  may  not  you? 
Try,  try  again." 

Tippy  sowed  that  seed  the  same  winter  that  she 
taught  Georgina  "The  Landing  of  the  Pilgrims" ;  but 
surely,  no  matter  how  long  a  time  since  then,  Tippy 
should  be  held  accountable  for  the  after  effects  of 
that  planting.  If  Georgina  persevered  it  was  no 
more  than  could  be  expected  considering  her  rigorous 
up-bringing. 

Georgina  pushed  the  frying-pan  to  the  back  of  the 
stove  where  it  was  cooler,  and  with  her  red  lips 
pursed  into  a  tight  line,  chose  another  egg,  smote  it 
sharply  on  the  edge  of  the  pan,  thereby  cracking  it 
and  breaking  the  shell  into  halves.  Her  thumbs 
punched  through  into  the  yolk  of  this  one  also,  but 
by  letting  part  of  the  shell  drop  with  it,  she  managed 
to  land  it  all  in  the  pan.  That  was  better.  She  fished 
out  the  fragment  of  shell  and  took  another  egg. 

This  time  the  feat  was  accomplished  as  deftly  as 
an  expert  chef  could  have  done  it,  and  a  pleased  smile 


Tracing  the  Liniment  Wagon     207 

took  the  place  of  the  grim  determination  on  Geor- 
gina's  face.  Elated  by  her  success  she  broke  another 
egg,  then  another  and  another.  It  was  as  easy  as 
breathing  or  winking.  She  broke  another  for  the 
pure  joy  of  putting  her  dexterity  to  the  test  once 
more.  Then  she  stopped,  appalled  by  the  pile  of 
empty  shells  confronting  her  accusingly.  She  counted 
them.  She  had  broken  eight — three-fourths  of  a  set- 
ting. What  would  Uncle  Darcy  say  to  such  a  wicked 
waste?  She  could  burn  the  shells,  but  what  an  awful 
lot  of  insides  to  dispose  of.  All  mixed  up  as  they 
were,  they  couldn't  be  saved  for  cake.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  scramble  them. 

Scramble  them  she  did,  and  the  pan  seemed  to 
grow  fuller  and  fuller  as  she  tossed  the  fluffy  mass 
about  with  a  fork.  It  was  fun  doing  that.  She  made 
the  most  of  this  short  space  of  time,  and  it  was  over 
all  too  soon.  She  knew  that  Aunt  Elspeth  had  grown 
tired  of  eggs  early  in  the  summer.  There  was  no 
use  saving  any  for  her.  Georgina  herself  was  not 
especially  fond  of  them,  but  she  would  have  to  eat 
all  she  could  to  keep  them  from  being  wasted. 

Some  time  after  she  rose  from  the  table  and  looked 
at  the  dish  with  a  feeling  of  disgust  that  there  could 
still  be  such  a  quantity  left,  after  she  had  eaten  so 
much  that  it  was  impossible  to  enjoy  even  a  taste 
of  the  blueberry  pie  or  the  honey.  Carrying  the  dish 
out  through  the  back  door  she  emptied  it  into  the 
cats'  pan,  fervently  wishing  that  John  and  Mary 


208         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Darcy  and  old  Yellownose  could  dispose  of  it  all 
without  being  made  ill. 

Long  ago  she  had  learned  to  do  her  sums  in  the 
sand.  Now  she  stooped  down  and  with  the  handle 
of  her  spoon  scratched  some  figures  in  the  path.  "If 
twelve  eggs  cost  thirty  cents,  how  much  will  eight 
eggs  cost?"  That  was  the  sum  she  set  for  herself. 
Only  that  morning  she  had  heard  Tippy  inquire 
the  price  of  eggs  from  the  butter-woman,  and  say 
they  were  unusually  high  and  hard  to  get  because 
they  were  so  many  summer  people  in  town  this  sea- 
son. She  didn't  know  where  they  were  going  to  get 
enough  for  all  the  cakes  necessary  for  the  Bazaar. 

It  took  Georgina  some  time  to  solve  the  problem. 
Then  going  back  to  the  kitchen  she  gathered  up  all 
the  shells  and  dropped  them  into  the  fire.  Her  sac- 
rifice was  costing  her  far  more  than  she  had  antici- 
pated. Somehow,  somewhere,  she  must  get  hold  of 
twenty  cents  to  pay  for  those  eggs.  Duty  again. 
Always  Duty.  But  for  that  one  horrid  word  she 
would  be  racing  down  the  road  to  Brewster  in  the 
wake  of  the  wild-cat  woman.  She  wondered  if  they 
had  caught  up  with  her  yet. 


CHAPTER    XX 

DANCE    OF   THE    RAINBOW    FAIRIES 

/^EORGINA,  intent  on  washing  the  frying-pan 
^-*  and  cleaning  the  last  vestige  of  burnt  egg  from 
the  top  of  the  stove,  did  not  hear  Mrs.  Saggs  come 
in  at  the  front  door  with  Aunt  Elspeth's  dinner-  on  a 
tray.  Nor  did  she  hear  the  murmur  of  voices  that 
went  on  while  it  was  being  eaten.  The  bedroom  was 
in  the  front  of  the  house,  and  the  rasping  noise  she 
was  making  as  she  scratched  away  with  the  edge  of 
an  iron  spoon,  kept  her  from  hearing  anything  else. 
So  when  the  door  into  the  kitchen  suddenly  opened  it 
gave  her  such  a  start  that  she  dropped  the  dishcloth 
into  the  woodbox. 

Mrs.  Saggs  sniffed  suspiciously.  There  was  some- 
thing reproachful  in  the  mere  tilt  of  her  nose  which 
Georgina  felt  and  resented. 

"I  thought  I  smelled  something  burning." 

"I  s'pect  you  did,"  Georgina  answered  calmly. 
"But  it's  all  over  now.  I  was  getting  my  dinner 
early,  so's  I  could  sit  with  Aunt  Elspeth  afterward." 

Mrs.  Saggs  had  both  hands  full,  as  she  was  carry- 
ing her  tray,  so  she  could  not  open  the  stove  to  look 
in;  but  she  walked  over  towards  it  and  peered  at  it 
from  a  closer  viewpoint,  continuing  to  sniff.  But 
there  was  nothing  for  her  to  discover,  no  clue  to  the 

209 


21O         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

smell.  Everything  which  Georgina  had  used  was 
washed  and  back  in  place  now.  The  sharp  eyes 
made  a  survey  of  the  kitchen,  watching  Georgina 
narrowly  as  the  child,  having  rinsed  the  dishcloth 
after  its  fall,  leaned  out  of  the  back  door  to  hang 
it  on  a  bush  in  the  sun,  as  Uncle  Darcy  always  did. 
"You've  been  taught  to  be  real  neat,  haven't  you?" 
she  said  in  an  approving  tone  which  made  Georgina 
like  her  better.  Then  her  glance  fell  on  a  work- 
basket  which  had  been  left  sitting  on  top  of  the  flour 
barrel.  In  it  was  a  piece  of  half-finished  mending. 
The  sharp  eyes  softened. 

"I  declare!"  she  exclaimed.  "It's  downright  piti- 
ful the  way  that  old  man  tries  to  do  for  himself  and 
his  poor  old  wife.  It's  surprising,  though,  how  well 
he  gets  along  with  the  housework  and  taking  care  of 
her  and  all." 

She  glanced  again  at  the  needle  left  sticking  in  the 
clumsy  unfinished  seam,  and  recognized  the  garment. 

"Well,  I  wish  you'd  look  at  that!  Even  trying 
to  patch  her  poor  old  nightgown  for  her !  Can  you 
beat  that?  Here,  child,  give  it  to  me.  My  hands 
are  full  with  this  tray,  so  just  stick  it  under  my  arm. 
I'll  mend  it  this  afternoon  while  I'm  setting  talking 
to  the  company." 

She  tightened  her  grip  on  the  bundle  which  Geor- 
gina thrust  under  her  arm,  and  looked  down  at  it. 

"Them  pitiful  old  stiff  fingers  of  his'n!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "They  sure  make  a  botch  of  sewing,  but 


Dance  of  the  Rainbow  Fairies     211 

they  don't  ever  make  a  botch  of  being  kind.  Well, 
I'm  off  now.  Guess  you'd  better  run  in  and  set  with 
Mis'  Darcy  for  a  spell,  for  she's  waked  up  real  natu- 
ral and  knowing  now,  and  seems  to  crave  company." 

Georgina  went,  but  paused  on  the  way,  seeing 
the  familiar  rooms  in  a  new  light,  since  Mrs.  Saggs' 
remarks  had  given  her  new  and  illuminating  insight. 
Everywhere  she  looked  there  was  something  as  elo- 
quent as  that  bit  of  unfinished  mending  to  bear  wit- 
ness that  Uncle  Darcy  was  far  more  than  just  a 
weather-beaten  old  man  with  a  smile  and  word  of 
cheer  for  everybody.  Ringing  the  Towncrier's  bell 
and  fishing  and  blueberrying  and  telling  yarns  and 
helping  everybody  bear  their  trouble  was  the  least 
part  of  his  doings.  That  was  only  what  the  world 
saw.  That  was  all  she  had  seen  herself  until  this 
moment. 

Now  she  was  suddenly  aware  of  his  bigness  of  soul 
which  made  him  capable  of  an  infinite  tenderness  and 
capacity  to  serve.  His  devotion  to  Aunt  Elspeth 
spread  an  encircling  care  around  her  as  a  great  oak 
throws  the  arms  of  its  shade,  till  her  comfort  was  his 
constant  thought,  her  happiness  his  greatest  desire. 

"Them  pitiful,  old,  stiff  fingers  of  his'n!"  How 
could  Mrs.  Saggs  speak  of  them  so  ?  They  were 
heroic,  effectual  fingers.  Theirs  was  something  far 
greater  than  the  Midas  touch — they  transmuted  the 
smallest  service  into  Love's  gold. 

Georgina,  with  her  long  stretching  up  to  books  that 


212         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

were  "over  her  head,"  understood  this  without  being 
able  to  put  it  into  words.  Nor  could  she  put  into 
words  the  longing  which  seized  her  like  a  dull  ache, 
for  Barby  to  be  loved  and  cared  for  like  that,  to  be 
as  constantly  and  supremely  considered.  She 
couldn't  understand  how  Aunt  Elspeth,  old  and 
wrinkled  and  childish,  could  be  the  object  of  such 
wonderful  devotion,  and  Barby,  her  adorable,  win- 
some Barby,  call  forth  less. 

"Not  one  letter  in  four  long  months,"  she  thought 
bitterly. 

"Dan'l,"  called  Aunt  Elspeth  feebly  from  the  next 
room,  and  Georgina  went  in  to  assure  her  that  Uncle 
Darcy  was  not  out  in  the  boat  and  would  not  be 
brought  home  drowned.  He  was  attending  to  some 
important  business  and  would  be  back  bye  and  bye. 
In  the  meantime,  she  was  going  to  hang  her  prism 
in  the  window  where  the  sun  could  touch  it  and  let  the 
rainbow  fairies  dance  over  the  bed. 

The  gay  flashes  of  color,  darting  like  elfin  wings 
here  and  there  as  Georgina  twisted  the  ribbon, 
pleased  Aunt  Elspeth  as  if  she  were  a  child.  She 
lifted  a  thin,  shriveled  hand  to  catch  at  them  and 
gave  a  weak  little  laugh  each  time  they  eluded  her 
grasp.  It  was  such  a  thin  hand,  almost  transparent, 
with  thick,  purplish  veins  standing  out  on  it. 
Georgina  glanced  at  her  own  and  wondered  if  Aunt 
Elspeth's  ever  could  have  been  dimpled  and  soft  like 
hers.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  this  frail  old 


Dance  of  the  Rainbow  Fairies     213 

woman  with  the  snowy-white  hair  and  sunken  cheeks 
could  ever  have  been  a  rosy  child  like  herself.  As 
if  in  answer  to  her  thought,  Aunt  Elspeth  spoke, 
groping  again  with  weak,  ineffectual  passes  after  the 
rainbows. 

"I  can't  catch  them.  They  bob  around  so.  That's 
the  way  I  used  to  be,  always  on  the  move.  They 
called  me  'Bouncing  Bet !'  " 

"Tell  me  about  that  time,"  urged  Georgina.  Back 
among  early  memories  Aunt  Elspeth's  mind  walked 
with  firm,  unfailing  tread.  It  was  only  among  those 
of  later  years  that  she  hesitated  and  groped  her  way 
as  if  lost  in  fog.  By  the  time  the  clock  had  struck 
the  hours  twice  more  Georgina  felt  that  she  knew  in- 
timately a  mischievous  girl  whom  her  family  called 
Bouncing  Bet  for  her  wild  ways,  but  who  bore  no 
trace  of  a  resemblance  to  the  feeble  old  creature  who 
recounted  her  pranks. 

And  the  blue-eyed  romp  who  could  sail  a  boat  like 
a  boy  or  swim  like  a  mackerel  grew  up  into  a  slender 
slip  of  a  lass  with  a  shy  grace  which  made  one  think 
of  a  wild-flower.  At  least  that  is  what  the  old 
daguerreotype  showed  Georgina  when  Aunt  Elspeth 
sent  her  rummaging  through  a  trunk  to  find  it. 
It  was  taken  in  a  white  dress  standing  beside  a  young 
sailor  in  his  uniform.  No  wonder  Uncle  Darcy 
looked  proud  in  the  picture.  But  Georgina  never 
would  have  known  it  was  Uncle  Darcy  if  she  hadn't 
been  told.  He  had  changed,  too. 


214         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

The  picture  make  Georgina  think  of  one  of  Bar- 
by's  songs,  and  presently  when  Aunt  Elspeth  was 
tired  of  talking  she  sang  it  to  her: 


"Hand  in  hand  when  our  life  was  May. 
Hand  in  hand  when  our  hair  is  gray. 

Sorrow  and  sun  for  everyone 

As  the  years  roll  on. 
Hand  in  hand  when  the  long  night  tide 

Gently  covers  us  side  by  side 

Ah,  lad,  though  we  know  not  when,, 
Love  will  be  with  us  forever  then. 
Always  the  same,  Darby  my  own, 
Always  the  same  to  your  old  wife  Joan!" 

After  that  there  were  other  songs  which  Aunt  Els- 
peth asked  for,  "Oh,  wert  thou  in  the  cauld  blast," 
and  "Robin  Adair."  Then  came  a  long  tiresome 
pause  when  Georgina  didn't  know  what  to  do  next, 
and  Aunt  Elspeth  turned  her  head  restlessly  on  the 
pillow  and  seemed  uneasy. 

Georgina  wished  with  all  her  heart  she  was  out 
of  the  stuffy  little  bedroom.  If  she  had  gone  with 
the  others,  she  would  be  speeding  along  the  smooth, 
white  road  now,  coming  home  from  Brewster,  with 
the  wind  and  sunshine  of  all  the  wide,  free  outdoors 
around  her. 

Aunt  Elspeth  drew  a  long,  tired  sigh. 


Dance  of  the  Rainbow  Fairies     215 

"Maybe  you'd  like  me  to  read  to  you,"  ventured 
Georgina.  She  hesitated  over  making  such  an  offer, 
because  there  were  so  few  books  in  the  house.  Noth- 
ing but  the  almanac  looked  interesting.  Aunt  Els- 
peth  assented,  and  pointed  out  a  worn  little  volume 
of  devotions  on  top  of  the  bureau,  saying: 

"That's  what  Dan'l  reads  me  on  Sundays." 

Georgina  opened  it.  Evidently  it  had  been  com- 
piled for  the  use  of  sea-faring  people,  for  it  was  full 
of  the  promises  that  sailor-folk  best  understand; 
none  of  the  shepherd  psalms  or  talk  of  green  pas- 
tures and  help-giving  hills.  It  was  all  about  mighty 
waters  and  paths  through  the  deep.  She  settled  her- 
self comfortably  in  the  low  rocking-chair  beside  the 
bed,  tossed  back  her  curls  and  was  about  to  begin, 
when  one  of  the  rainbow  lights  from  the  prism 
danced  across  the  page.  S!ie  waited,  smiling,  until  it 
glimmered  away.  Then  she  read  the  verses  on  which 
it  had  shone. 

"All  thy  waves  and  thy  billows  are  gone  over  me, 
yet  the  Lord  will  command  His  loving  kindness  in  the 
daytime,  and  in  the  night  His  song  shall  be  with  me." 

The  sweet  little  voice  soothed  the  troubled  spirit 
that  listened  like  music. 

"When  thou  passeth  through  "the  waters  I  will  be 
with  thee,  and  through  the  rivers:  they  shall  not  over- 
flow thee.  .  .  .  Thus  saith  the  Lord  which  maketh 
a  way  in  the  sea,  and  a  path  in  the  mighty  waters." 


216         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Aunt  Elspeth  reached  out  a  groping  hand  for 
Georgina's  and  took  the  soft  little  fingers  in  hers. 
Georgina  didn't  want  to  have  her  hand  held,  espe- 
cially in  such  a  stiff,  bony  clasp.  It  made  her  uncom- 
fortable to  sit  with  her  arm  stretched  up  in  such  a 
position,  but  she  was  too  polite  to  withdraw  it,  so  she 
read  on  for  several  pages. 

"He  maketh  the  storm  a  calm,  so  that  the  waves 
thereof  are  still.  So  He  bring eth  them  into  their  de- 
sired haven." 

Attracted  by  the  sound  of  heavy  breathing,  she 
looked  up.  Aunt  Elspeth  was  asleep.  Georgina 
laid  the  book  on  the  table,  and  slowly,  very  slowly 
began  to  raise  herself  out  of  the  chair,  afraid  of 
arousing  the  sleeper  who  still  held  her  hand.  As  she 
stood  up,  the  board  in  the  floor  under  her  squeaked. 
She  was  afraid  to  take  another  step  or  to  try  to  pull 
her  hand  away.  She  had  come  to  the  end  of  her  re- 
sources for  entertainment,  and  she  was  afraid  Aunt 
Elspeth's  next  awakening  might  be  to  a  crying,  rest- 
less mood  which  she  could  not  control.  So  she  sat 
down  again. 

It  was  very  still  in  the  bedroom.  A  fly  buzzed 
on  the  outside  of  the  window  screen,  and  away  off 
on  another  street  the  "accommodation"  was  going 
by.  She  could  hear  the  bells  jingling  on  the  horses. 
As  she  sat  thus,  not  even  rocking,  but  just  jiggling 
the  chair  a  trifle,  the  words  she  had  read  began  to 
come  back  to  her  after  a  while  like  a  refrain:  "So 


Dance  of  the  Rainbow  Fairies     217 

He  bringeth  them  into  their  desired  haven.  So  He 
bringeth  them  into  their  desired  haven."  She  whis- 
pered them  over  and  over  as  she  often  whispered 
songs,  hearing  the  music  w^hich  had  no  tone  except  in 
her  thought. 

And  presently,  as  the  whispered  song  repeated  it- 
self, the  words  began  to  bring  a  wonderful  sense  of 
peace  and  security.  She  did  not  realize  what  it  was 
that  was  speaking  to  her  through  them.  It  was  the 
faith  which  had  lived  so  long  in  these  lowly  little 
rooms.  It  was  the  faith  which  had  upborne  Uncle 
Darcy  year  after  year,  helping  him  to  steer  onward 
in  the  confidence  that  the  Hand  he  trusted  would 
fulfil  all  its  promises.  She  felt  the  subtle,  influence 
that  goes  out  from  such  lives,  without  knowing  what 
it  was  that  touched  her.  She  was  conscious  of  it 
only  as  she  was  conscious  of  the  nearness  of  migno- 
nette when  its  fragrance  stole  in  from  the  flower-bed 
under  the  window.  They  were  both  unseen  but  the 
mignonette's  fragrance  was  wonderfully  sweet,  and 
the  feeling  of  confidence,  breathing  through  the 
words  of  the  old  psalm  was  wonderfully  strong. 
Some  day  she,  too,  would  be  brought,  and  Barby 
would  be  brought  into  "their  desired  haven." 

Georgina  was  tired.  It  had  been  a  full  day,  be- 
ginning with  that  digging  in  the  dunes.  Presently 
she  began  to  nod.  Then  the  rocking  chair  ceased  to 
sway.  When  the  clock  struck  again  she  did  not  hear 
it.  She  was  sound  asleep  with  her  hand  still  clasped 
in  Aunt  Elspeth's. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

ON  THE   TRAIL   OF   THE   WILD-CAT   WOMAN 

TV/TEANWHILE,  the  pursuing  party  had  made  the 
*•**•  trip  to  Brewster  and  were  on  their  way  home. 
At  the  various  small  towns  where  they  stopped  to 
ask  questions,  they  found  that  the  patent-medicine 
vendors  had  invariably  followed  one  course.  They 
had  taken  supper  at  the  hotel,  but  after  each  even- 
ing's performance  had  driven  into  the  country  a 
little  way  to  camp  for  the  night  in  the  open.  At 
Orleans  an  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Milford's  in  a  feed 
store  had  much  to  say  about  them. 

"I  don't  know  whether  they  camp  out  of  consider- 
ation for  the  wild-cat,  or  whether  it's  because  they're 
attached  to  that  rovin',  gypsy  life.  They're  good 
spenders,  and  from  the  way  they  sold  their  liniment 
here  last  night,  you'd  think  they  could  afford  to  put 
up  at  a  hotel  all  the  time  and  take  a  room  for  the 
cat  in  the  bargain.  You  needn't  tell  me  that  beast 
ever  saw  the  banks  of  the  Brazos.  I'll  bet  they 
caught  it  up  in  the  Maine  woods  some'rs.  But  they 
seem  such  honest,  straightforward  sort  of  folks, 
somehow  you  have  to  believe  'em.  They're  a  friendly 
pair,  too,  specially  the  old  lady.  Seems  funny  to 

218 


On  the  Trail  of  the  Wild-Cat  Woman  219 

hear  you  speak  of  her  as  the  wild-cat  woman.  That 
name  is  sure  a  misfit  for  her." 

Mr.  Milford  thought  so  himself,  when  a  little  later 
he  came  across  her,  a  mile  out  of  Brewster.  She  was 
sitting  in  the  wooden  rocking  chair  in  one  end  of  the 
wagon,  placidly  darning  a  pair  of  socks,  while  she 
waited  for  her  husband  to  bring  the  horses  from  some 
place  up  in  the  woods  where  he  had  taken  them  for 
water.  They  had  been  staked  by  the  roadside  all 
night  to  graze.  The  wild-cat  was  blinking  drowsily 
in  its  cage,  having  just  been  fed. 

Some  charred  sticks  and  a  little  pile  of  ashes  by 
the  roadside,  showed  where  she  had  cooked  dinner 
over  a  camp-fire,  but  the  embers  were  carefully  ex- 
tinguished and  the  frying  pan  and  dishes  were  stowed 
out  of  sight  in  some  mysterious  compartment  under 
the  wagon  bed,  as  compactly  as  if  they  had  been 
parts  of  a  Chinese  puzzle.  Long  experience  on  the 
road  had  taught  her  how  to  pack  with  ease  and  dex- 
terity. 

She  looked  up  with  interest  as  the  automobile  drew 
out  of  the  road,  and  stopped  alongside  the  wagon. 
She  was  used  to  purchasers  following  them  out  of 
town  for  the  liniment  after  a  successful  show  like 
last  night's  performance. 

Despite  the  feedman's  description  of  her,  Mr. 
Milford  had  expected  to  see  some  sort  of  an  adven- 
turess such  as  one  naturally  associates  with  such  a 
business,  and  when  he  saw  the  placid  old  lady  with 


22O        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

the  smooth,  gray  hair,  and  met  the  gaze  of  the 
motherly  eyes  peering  over  her  spectacles  at  him,  he 
scarcely  knew  how  to  begin.  Uncle  Darcy,  growing 
impatient  at  the  time  consumed  in  politely  leading 
up  to  the  object  of  their  coming,  fidgetted  in  his  seat. 
At  last  he  could  wait  no  longer  for  remarks  about 
weather  and  wild-cats.  Such  conversational  paths  led 
nowhere.  He  interrupted  abruptly. 

"I'm  the  Towncrier  from  Provincetown,  ma'am. 
Did  you  lose  anything  while  you  were  there?" 

"Well,  now,"  she  began  slowly.  "I  can't  say 
where  I  lost  it.  I  didn't  think  it  was  in  Provincetown 
though.  I  made  sure  it  was  some  place  between  Har- 
wichport  and  Orleans,  and  I  had  my  man  post  notices 
in  both  those  places." 

"And  what  was  it  you  lost?"  inquired  Mr.  Mil- 
ford  politely.  He  had  cautioned  his  old  friend  on 
the  way  down  at  intervals  of  every  few  miles,  not  to 
build  his  hopes  up  too  much  on  finding  that  this 
woman  was  the  owner  of  the  pouch. 

"You  may  have  to  follow  a  hundred  different  clues 
before  you  get  hold  of  the  right  one,"  he  warned 
him.  "We're  taking  this  trip  on  the  mere  chance  that 
we'll  find  the  owner,  just  because  two  children  as- 
sociated the  pouch  in  their  memory  with  the  odor  of 
liniment.  It  is  more  than  likely  they're  mistaken 
and  that  this  is  all  a  wild-goose  chase." 

But  Uncle  Darcy  had  built  his  hopes  on  it,  had  set 
his  heart  on  finding  this  was  the  right  clue,  and  his 


On  the  Trail  of  the  Wild-Cat  Woman   22 1 

beaming  face  said,  "I  told  you  so,"  when  she  an- 
swered: 

"It  was  a  little  tobacco  pouch,  and  I'm  dreadfully 
put  out  over  losing  it,  because  aside  from  the  valu- 
ables and  keep-sakes  in  it  there  was  a  letter  that's 
been  following  me  all  over  the  country.  It  didn't 
reach  me  till  just  before  I  got  to  Provincetown.  It's 
from  some  heathen  country  with  such  an  outlandish 
name  I  couldn't  remember  it  while  I  was  reading  it, 
scarcely,  and  now  I'll  never  think  of  it  again  while 
the  world  wags,  and  there's  no  way  for  me  to  answer 
it  unless  I  do." 

"Oh,  don't  say  that!"  exclaimed  Uncle  Darcy. 
"You  must  think  of  it.  And  I  must  know.  How  did 
this  come  into  your  hands?" 

He  held  out  the  little  watch-fob  charm,  the  com- 
pass set  in  a  nut  and  she  seized  it  eagerly. 

"Well,  you  did  find  my  pouch,  didn't  you?"  she 
exclaimed.  "I  made  sure  that  was  what  you  were 
aiming  to  tell  me.  That's  a  good-luck  charm.  It 
was  given  to  me  as  much  as  eight  years  ago,  by  a 
young  fellow  who  was  taken  sick  on  our  ranch  down 
in  Texas.  He'd  been  working  around  the  docks  in 
Galveston,  but  came  on  inland  because  somebody 
roped  him  in  to  believe  he  could  make  a  fortune  in 
cattle  in  a  few  months.  He  was  riding  fences  for 
Henry,  and  he  came  down  with  a  fever  and  Henry 
and  me  nursed  him  through." 

Always  talkative,  she  poured  out  her  information 


222         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

now  in  a  stream,  drawn  on  by  the  compelling  eager- 
ness of  the  old  man's  gaze. 

"He  was  a  nice  boy  and  the  most  grateful  soul 
you  ever  saw.  But  he  didn't  take  to  the  cattle  busi- 
ness, and  he  soon  pushed  on.  He  was  all  broke  up 
when  it  came  to  saying  good-bye.  You  could  see 
that,  although  he's  one  of  your  quiet  kind,  hiding  his 
real  feelings  like  an  Indian.  He  gave  me  this  good- 
luck  charm  when  he  left,  because  he  didn't  have  any- 
thing else  to  give,  to  show  he  appreciated  our  nurs- 
ing him  and  doing  for  him,  and  he  said  that  he'd 
make  it  bring  us  good  luck  or  die  a-trying  and  we'd 
hear  from  him  some  of  these  days." 

"And  you  did?" 

The  old  man's  face  was  twitching  with  eagerness 
as  he  asked  the  question. 

"Yes,  about  five  years  ago  he  sent  us  a  nice  little 
check  at  Christmas.  Said  he  had  a  good  job  with 
a  wealthy  Englishman  who  spent  his  time  going 
around  the  world  discovering  queer  plants  and  writ- 
ing books  about  them.  He  was  in  South  America 
then.  We've  heard  from  him  several  times  since. 
This  last  letter  followed  me  around  from  pillar  to 
post,  always  just  missing  me  and  having  to  have  the 
address  scratched  out  and  written  over  till  you  could 
hardly  make  head  or  tail  of  what  was  on  it. 

"He  asked  me  to  write  to  the  address  he  gave  me, 
but  whether  it  was  in  'Afric's  sunny  fountain  or  In- 


On  the  Trail  of  the  Wild-Cat  Woman  223 

dia's  coral  strand/  I  can't  tell  now.  It  was  some 
heathenish  'land  in  error's  chain,'  as  the  missionary 
hymn  says.  I  was  so  worried  over  losing  the  letter 
on  account  of  the  address,  for  he  did  seem  so  bent 
on  hearing  from  us,  and  he's  a  nice  boy.  I'd  hate 
to  loose  track  of  him.  So  I'm  mighty  thankful  you 
found  the  pouch." 

She  stopped,  expecting  them  to  hand  it  over. 
Mr.  Milford  made  the  necessary  explanation. 
He  told  of  Captain  Kidd  finding  it  and  bring- 
ing it  home,  of  the  two  children  burying  it  in 
play  and  the  storm  sweeping  away  every  trace  of  the 
markers.  While  he  told  the  story  several  automo- 
biles passed  them  and  the  occupants  leaned  out  to 
look  at  the  strange  group  beside  the  road.  It  was 
not  every  day  one  could  see  an  old  lady  seated  in  a 
rocking  chair  in  one  end  of  an  unattached  wagon 
with  a  wild-cat  in  the  other.  These  passing  tourists 
would  have  thought  it  stranger  still,  could  they  have 
known  how  fate  had  been  tangling  the  life  threads  of 
these  people  who  were  in  such  earnest  conversation, 
or  how  it  had  wound  them  together  into  a  queer  skein 
of  happenings. 

"And  the  only  reason  this  compass  was  saved," 
concluded  Mr.  Milford,  "was  because  it  had  the 
initials  'D.  D.'  scratched  on  it,  which  stands  for  this 
little  boy's  name  when  he  plays  pirate — Dare-devil 
Dick."  ' 

The  motherly  eyes  smiled  on  Richard.     "If  you 


224        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

want  to  know  the  real  name  those  letters  stand  for," 
she  said,  "it's  Dave  Daniels.  That's  the  name  of  the 
boy  who  gave  it  to  me." 

Richard  looked  alarmed,  and  even  Mr.  Milford 
turned  with  a  questioning  glance  towards  Uncle 
Darcy,  about  to  say  something,  when  the  old  man 
leaned  past  him  and  spoke  quickly,  almost  defiantly, 
as  a  child  might  have  done. 

"That's  all  right.  I  don't  care  what  he  told  you 
his  name  was.  He  had  a  good  reason  for  changing 
it.  And  I'm  going  to  tell  you  this  much  no  matter 
what  I  promised.  /  scratched  those  initials  on  there 
my  own  self,  over  forty  years  ago.  And  the  boy 
who  gave  it  to  you  is  named  Daniel,  but  it's  his  first 
name,  same  as  mine.  Dan'l  Darcy.  And  the  boy's 
mine,  and  I've  been  hunting  him  for  ten  long  years, 
and  I've  faith  to  believe  that  the  good  Lord  isn't 
going  to  disappoint  me  now  that  I'm  this  near  the  end 
of  my  hunt.  He  had  a  good  reason  for  going  away 
from  home  the  way  he  did.  He'd  a  good  reason  for 
changing  his  name  as  he  did,  but  the  time  has  come 
now  when  it's  all  right  for  him  to  come  back  and," 
shaking  his  finger  solemnly  and  impressively  at  the 
woman,  "/  want  you  to  get  that  word  back  to  him 
without  fail" 

"But  this  is  only  circumstantial  evidence,  Uncle 
Dan'l,"  said  Mr.  Milford,  soothingly.  "You  haven't 
any  real  proof  that  this  Dave  is  your  Danny." 

"Proof,  proof,"  was  the  excited  answer.     "I  tell 


On  the  Trail  of  the  Wild-Cat  Woman  225 

you,  man,  I've  all  the  proof  I  need.  All  I  ask  for 
is  the  address  in  that  letter.  I'll  find  my  boy  quick 
enough." 

"But  I  don't  know,"  was  all  the  woman  could 
answer.  "The  only  way  in  the  world  to  find  it  is  to 
dig  up  that  pouch." 

"But  even  if  you  can't  remember  the  new  address 
tell  me  one  of  the  old  ones,"  he  pleaded.  "I'll 
take  a  chance  on  writing  there  and  having  it  for- 
warded." 

But  the  woman  could  not  recall  the  name  of  a  sin- 
gle city.  South  America,  Australia,  New  Zealand, 
she  remembered  he  had  been  in  those  countries,  but 
that  was  all.  Richard,  upon  being  cross-questioned 
again,  "b'leeved"  the  stamp  was  from  Siam  or  China 
but  couldn't  be  certain  which. 

"Here  comes  Henry!"  exclaimed  the  woman  in  a 
relieved  tone.  "Maybe  he'll  remember." 

Henry,  a  tall,  raw-boned  man  with  iron-gray  hair 
under  his  Texas  sombrero,  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and 
with  his  after-dinner  pipe  still  in  his  mouth,  came 
leisurely  out  of  the  woods,  leading  the  horses.  They 
were  already  harnessed,  ready  to  be  hitched  to  the 
wagon.  He  backed  them  up  to  the  tongue  and 
snapped  the  chains  in  place  before  he  paused  to  give 
the  strangers  more  than  a  passing  nod  of  greeting. 
Then  he  came  around  to  the  side  of  the  wagon  near- 
est the  machine,  and  putting  one  foot  up  on  a  spoke 


226         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

of  his  front  wheel,  leaned  over  in  a  listening  atti- 
tude, while  the  whole  story  was  repeated  for  his  bene- 
fit. 

"So  you're  his  father,"  he  said  musingly,  looking 
at  Uncle  Darcy  with  shrewd  eyes  that  were  used  to 
appraising  strangers. 

"Who  ever  would  a  thought  of  coming  across 
Dave  Daniels'  tracks  up  here  on  old  Cape  Cod? 
You  look  like  him  though.  I  bet  at  his  age  you  were 
as  much  alike  as  two  peas  in  a  pod.  I  never  did 
know  where  he  hailed  from.  He  was  a  close- 
mouthed  chap.  But  I  somehow  got  the  idea  he  must 
have  been  brought  up  near  salt  water.  He  talked  so 
much  sailor  lingo." 

"Put  on  your  thinking-cap,  Henry,"  demanded  his 
wife.  "The  gentlemen  wants  to  know  where  that 
last  letter  was  written  from,  what  the  postmark  was, 
or  the  address  inside,  or  what  country  the  stamp  be- 
longed to.  And  if  you  don't  know  that,  what  are 
some  of  the  other  places  he  wrote  to  us  from?" 

"You're  barking  up  the  wrong  tree  when  you  ask 
me  any  such  questions,"  was  the  only  answer  he  could 
give.  "I  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  anything  but 
the  reading  matter." 

Questions,  surmises,  suggestions,  everything  that 
could  be  brought  up  as  aids  to  memory  were  of  no 
avail.  Henry's  memory  was  a  blank  in  that  one  im- 
portant particular.  Finally,  Mr.  Milford  took  two 
five-dollar  gold  pieces  out  of  his  pocket  and  a  handful 


On  the  Trail  of  the  Wild-Cat  Woman   227 

of  small  change  which  he  dropped  into  the  woman's 
lap  despite  her  protests. 

"We'll  square  up  the  damage  the  children  did  as 
far  as  possible,"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "But  we  can't 
get  the  letter  back  until  the  wind  is  ready  to  turn  the 
dunes  topsy-turvy  again.  That  may  be  in  years  and 
it  may  be  never.  Let  me  have  your  address  and  if 
ever  it  is  found  it  shall  be  sent  directly  back  to  you, 
and  the  children  can  inherit  the  money  if  I'm  not 
here  to  claim  it." 

The  man  made  a  wry  face  at  mention  of  his  ad- 
dress. "We  sort  of  belong  to  what  they  call  the 
floating  population  now.  Home  with  us  means  any 
old  place  where  Mother  happens  to  set  her  rocking 
chair.  We've  turned  the  ranch  over  to  my  daughter 
and  her  husband  while  we  see  something  of  the 
world,  and  as  long  as  things  go  as  smoothly  as  they 
do,  we're  in  no  great  shakes  of  a  hurry  to  get  back." 

"But  the  ranch  address  will  always  find  us, 
Henry,"  she  insisted.  "Write  it  down  for  the  gentle- 
men. Ain't  this  been  a  strange  happening?"  she 
commented,  as  she  received  Mr.  Milford's  card  in 
return  with  the  Towncrier's  name  penciled  on  the 
back.  She  looked  searchingly  at  Richard. 

"I  remember  you,  now,"  she  said.  "There  was 
such  a  pretty  little  girl  with  you — climbed  up  on  the 
wagon  to  touch  Tim's  tail  through  the  bars.  She 
had  long  curls  and  a  smile  that  made  me  want  to 
hug  her.  She  bought  a  bottle  of  liniment,  I  re- 


228        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

member,  and  I've  thought  of  her  a  dozen  times  since 
then,  thought  how  a  little  face  like  that  brightens  up 
all  the  world  around  it." 

"That  was  Georgina  Huntingdon,"  volunteered 
Richard. 

"Well,  now,  that's  a  pretty  name.  Write  it  down 
on  the  other  side  of  this  piece  of  paper,  sonny,  and 
yours,  too.  Then  when  I  go  about  the  country  I'll 
know  what  to  call  you  when  I  think  about  you.  This 
is  just  like  a  story.  If  there  was  somebody  who 
knew  how  to  write  it  up  'twould  make  a  good  piece 
for  the  papers,  wouldn't  it?" 

They  were  ready  to  start  back  now,  since  there 
was  no  more  information  to  be  had,  but  on  one  pre- 
text or  another  Uncle  Darcy  delayed.  He  was  so 
pitifully  eager  for  more  news  of  Danny.  The  small- 
est crumb  about  the  way  he  looked,  what  he  did  and 
said  was  seized  upon  hungrily,  although  it  was  news 
eight  years  old.  And  he  begged  to  hear  once  more 
just  what  it  was  Danny  had  said  about  the  English- 
man, and  the  work  they  were  doing  together.  He 
could  have  sat  there  the  rest  of  the  day  listening  to 
her  repeat  the  same  things  over  and  over  if  he  had 
had  his  wish.  Then  she  asked  a  question. 

"Who  is  Belle?  I  mind  when  he  was  out  of  his 
head  so  long  with  the  fever  he  kept  saying,  'Belle 
mustn't  suffer.  No  matter  what  happens  Belle  must 
be  spared.'  I  remembered  because  that's  my  name, 
and  hearing  it  called  out  in  the  dead  of  night  the 


On  the  Trail  of  the  Wild-Cat  Woman  229 

way  a  man  crazy  with  fever  would  call  it,  naturally 
makes  you  recollect  it." 

"That  was  just  a  friend  of  his,"  answered  Uncle 
Darcy,  "the  girl  who  was  going  to  marry  his  chum." 

"Oh,"  was  the  answer  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to 
convey  a  shade  of  disappontment.  "I  thought 
maybe " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  for  the  engine  had 
begun  to  shake  noisily,  and  it  seemed  to  distract  her 
thoughts.  And  now  there  being  really  nothing  more 
to  give  them  an  excuse  for  lingering  they  said  good- 
bye to  their  wayside  acquaintances,  feeling  that  they 
were  parting  from  two  old  friends,  so  cordial  were 
the  good  wishes  which  accompanied  the  leave-tak- 
ing. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE    RAINBOW   GAME 

TT7ITH  her  arm  stiff  and  cramped  from  being 
*  *  held  so  long  in  one  position,  Georgina  waked 
suddenly  and  looked  around  her  in  bewilderment. 
Uncle  Darcy  was  in  the  room,  saying  something 
about  her  liding  home  in  the  machine.  He  didn't 
want  to  huny  her  off,  but  Mr.  Milford  was  waiting 
at  the  gate,  and  it  would  save  her  a  long  walk 
homo 

While  he  talked  he  was  leaning  over  Aunt  Elspeth, 
patting  her  cheek,  and  she  was  clinging  to  his  hand 
and  smiling  up  at  him  as  if  he  had  just  been  restored 
to  her  after  a  long,  long  absence,  instead  of  a  sepa- 
ration of  only  a  few  hours.  And  he  looked  so  glad 
about  something,  as  if  the  nicest  thing  in  the  world 
had  happened,  that  Georgina  rubbed  her  eyes  and 
stared  at  him,  wondering  what  it  could  have  been. 

Evidently,  it  was  the  honk  of  the  horn  which  had 
aroused  Georgina,  and  when  it  sounded  again  she 
sprang  up,  still  confused  by  the  suddenness  of  her 
awakening,  with  only  one  thing  clear  in  her  mind,  the 
necessity  for  haste.  She  snatched  her  prism  from 
die  window  and  caught  up  her  hat  as  she  ran  through 
the  next  room,  but  not  until  she  was  half-way  home 

230 


The  Rainbow  Game  231 

did  she  remember  that  she  had  said  nothing  about 
the  eggs  and  had  asked  no  questions  about  the  trip 
to  Brewster.  She  had  not  even  said  good-bye. 

Mr.  Milford  nodded  pleasantly  when  she  went 
out  to  the  car,  saying,  "Hop  in,  kiddie,"  but  he  did 
not  turn  around  after  they  started  and  she  did  not 
feel  well  enough  acquainted  with  him  to  shout  out 
questions  behind  his  back.  Besides,  after  they  had 
gone  a  couple  of  blocks  he  began  explaining  some- 
thing to  Richard,  who  was  sitting  up  in  front  of 
him,  about  the  workings  of  the  car,  and  kept  on  ex- 
plaining all  the  rest  of  the  way  home.  She  couldn't 
interrupt. 

Not  until  she  climbed  out  in  front  of  her  own  gate 
with  a  shy  "Thank  you,  Mr.  Milford,  for  bringing 
me  home,"  did  she  find  courage  and  opportunity  to 
ask  the  question  she  longed  to  know. 

"Did  you  find  the  woman?     Was  it  her  pouch?" 

Mr.  Milford  was  leaning  forward  in  his  seat  to 
examine  something  that  had  to  do  with  the  shifting 
of  the  gears,  and  he  answered  while  he  investigated, 
without  looking  up. 

"Yes,  but  she  couldn't  remember  where  the  letter 
was  from,  so  we're  not  much  wiser  than  we  were  be- 
fore, except  that  we  know  for  a  certainty  that  Dan 
was  alive  and  well  less  than  two  months  ago.  At 
least  Uncle  Dan'l  believes  it  is  Dan.  The  woman 
calls  him  Dave,  but  Uncle  Dan'l  vows  they're  one 
and  the  same." 


232         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Having  adjusted  the  difficulty,  Mr.  Milford,  with 
a  good-bye  nod  to  Georgina,  started  on  down  the 
street  again.  Georgina  stood  looking  after  the  rap- 
idly disappearing  car. 

"Well,  no  wonder  Uncle  Darcy  looked  so  happy," 
she  thought,  recalling  his  radiant  face.  "It  was 
knowing  that  Danny  is  alive  and  well  that  made  it 
shine  so.  I  wish  I'd  been  along.  Wish  I  could  have 
heard  every  thing  each  one  of  them  said.  I  could 
have  remembered  every  single  word  to  tell  Richard, 
but  he  won't  remember  even  half  to  tell  me." 

It  was  in  the  pursuit  of  all  the  information  which 
could  be  pumped  out  of  Richard  that  Georgina 
sought  the  Green  Stairs  soon  after  breakfast  next 
morning.  Incidentally,  she  was  on  her  way  to  a 
nearby  grocery  and  had  been  told  to  hurry.  She 
ran  all  the  way  down  in  order  to  gain  a  few  extra 
moments  in  which  to  loiter.  As  usual  at  this  time 
of  morning,  Richard  was  romping  over  the  terraces 
with  Captain  Kidd. 

"Hi,  Georgina,"  he  called,  as  he  spied  her  com- 
ing. "I've  got  a  new  game.  A  new  way  to  play 
tag.  Look." 

Plunging  down  the  steps  he  held  out  for  her  in- 
spection a  crystal  paperweight  which  he  had  picked 
up  from  the  library  table.  Its  round  surface  had  been 
cut  into  many  facets,  as  a  diamond  is  cut  to  make  it 
flash  the  light,  and  the  spots  of  color  it  threw  as  he 
turned  it  in  the  sun  were  rainbow-hued. 


The  Rainbow  Game  233 

"See,"  he  explained.  "Instead  of  tagging  Cap- 
tain Kidd  with  my  hand  I  touch  him  with  a  rainbow, 
and  it's  lots  harder  to  do  because  you  can't  always 
make  it  light  where  you  want  it  to  go,  or  where  you 
think  it  is  going  to  fall.  I've  only  tagged  him  twice 
so  far  in  all  the  time  I've  been  trying,  because  he 
bobs  around  so  fast.  Come  on,  I'll  get  you  before 
you  tag  me,"  he  added,  seeing  that  her  prism  hung 
from  the  ribbon  on  her  neck. 

She  did  not  wear  it  every  day,  but  she  had  felt  an 
especial  need  for  its  comforting  this  morning,  and 
had  put  it  on  as  she  slowly  dressed.  The  difficulty 
of  restoring  the  eggs  loomed  up  in  front  of  her  as  a 
real  trouble,  and  she  needed  this  to  remind  her  to 
keep  on  hoping  that  some  way  would  soon  turn  up 
to  end  it. 

It  was  a  fascinating  game.  Such  tags  are  elusive, 
uncertain  things.  The  pursuer  can  never  be  certain 
of  touching  the  pursued.  Georgina  entered  into  it, 
alert  and  glowing,  darting  this  way  and  that  to  es- 
cape being  touched  by  the  spots  of  vivid  color.  Her 
prism  threw  it  in  bars,  Richard's  in  tiny  squares  and 
triangles. 

"Let's  make  them  fight!"  Richard  exclaimed  in 
the  midst  of  it,  and  for  a  few  moments  the  color 
spots  flashed  across  each  other  like  flocks  of  darting 
birds.  Suddenly  Georgina  stopped,  saying: 

"Oh,  I  forgot.  I'm  on  my  way  to  the  grocery,  and 
I  must  hurry  back.  But  I  wanted  to  ask  you  two 


234        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

things.  One  was,  tell  me  all  about  what  the  woman 
said  yesterday,  and  the  other  was,  think  of  some  way 
for  me  to  earn  twenty  cents.  There  isn't  time  to 
hear  about  the  first  one  now,  but  think  right  quick 
and  answer  the  second  question." 

She  started  down  the  street,  skipping  backwards 
slowly,  and  Richard  walked  after  her. 

"Aw,  I  don't  know,"  he  answered  in  a  vague  way. 
"At  home  when  we  wanted  to  make  money  we  al- 
ways gave  a  show  and  charged  a  penny  to  get  in,  or 
we  kept  a  lemonade  stand;  but  we  don't  know  enough 
kids  here  to  make  that  pay." 

Then  he  looked  out  over  the  water  and  made  a 
suggestion  at  random.  A  boy  going  along  the  beach 
towards  one  of  the  summer  cottages  with  a  pail  in 
his  hand,  made  him  think  of  it. 

"Pick  blueberries  and  sell  them." 

"I  thought  of  that,"  answered  Georgina,  still 
progressing  towards  the  grocery  backward.  "And 
it  would  be  a  good  time  now  to  slip  away  while  Tip- 
py's busy  with  the  Bazaar.  This  is  the  third  day. 
But  they've  done  so  well  they're  going  to  keep  on  with 
it  another  day,  and  they've  thought  up  a  lot  of  new 
things  to-morrow  to  draw  a  crowd.  One  of  them 
is  a  kind  of  talking  tableau.  I'm  to  be  in  it,  so  it 
wouldn't  do  for  me  to  go  and  get  my  hands  all  stained 
with  berries  when  I'm  to  be  dressed  up  as  a  part  of 
the  show  for  the  whole  town  to  come  and  take  a  look 
at  me." 


The  Rainbow  Game  235 

Richard  had  no  more  suggestions  to  offer,  so  with 
one  more  flash  of  the  prism  and  a  cry  of  "last  tag," 
Georgina  turned  and  started  on  a  run  to  the  grocery. 
Richard  and  the  paperweight  followed  in  hot  pur- 
suit. 

Up  at  one  of  the  front  windows  of  the  bungalow, 
two  interested  spectators  had  been  watching  the  game 
below.  One  was  Richard's  father,  the  other  was  a 
new  guest  of  Mr.  Milford's  who  had  arrived  only 
the  night  before.  He  was  the  Mr.  Locke  who  was 
to  take  Richard  and  his  father  and  Cousin  James 
away  on  his  yacht  next  morning.  He  was  also  a 
famous  illustrator  of  juvenile  books,  and  he  some- 
times wrote  the  rhymes  and  fairy  tales  himself  which 
he  illustrated.  Everybody  in  this  town  of  artists  who 
knew  anything  at  all  of  the  world  of  books  and  pic- 
tures outside,  knew  of  Milford  Norris  Locke.  Now 
as  he  watched  the  graceful  passes  of  the  two  children 
darting  back  and  forth  on  the  board-walk  below,  he 
asked: 

"Who's  the  little  girl,  Moreland?  She's  the  child 
of  my  dreams — the  very  one  I've  been  hunting  for 
weeks.  She  has  not  only  the  sparkle  and  spirit  that 
I  want  to  put  into  those  pictures  I  was  telling  you 
about,  but  the  grace  and  the  curls  and  the  mischievous 
eyes  as  well.  Reckon  I  could  get  her  to  pose  for 
me?" 

That  is  how  it  came  about  that  Georgina  found 
Richard's  father  waiting  for  her  at  the  foot  of  the 


236         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Green  Stairs  when  she  came  running  back  from  the 
grocery.  When  she  went  home  a  few  minutes  later, 
she  carried  with  her  something  more  than  the  cake 
of  sweet  chocolate  that  Tippy  had  sent  her  for  in 
such  a  hurry.  It  was  the  flattering  knowledge  that 
a  famous  illustrator  had  asked  to  make  a  sketch  of 
her  which  would  be  published  in  a  book  if  it  turned 
out  to  be  a  good  one. 

With  a  sailing  party  and  a  studio  reception  and 
several  other  engagements  to  fill  up  his  one  day  in 
Provincetown,  Mr.  Locke  could  give  only  a  part  of 
the  morning  to  the  sketches,  and  wanted  to  begin  as 
soon  as  possible.  So  a  few  minutes  after  Georgina 
went  dancing  in  with  the  news,  he  followed  in  Mr. 
Milford's  machine.  He  arrived  so  soon  after,  in 
fact,  that  Tippy  had  to  receive  him  just  as  she  was 
in  her  gingham  house  dress  and  apron. 

After  looking  all  over  the  place  he  took  Geor- 
gina down  to  the  garden  and  posed  her  on  a  stone 
bench  near  the  sun-dial,  at  the  end  of  a  tall,  bright 
aisle  of  hollyhocks.  There  was  no  time  to  waste. 

"We'll  pretend  you're  sitting  on  the  stone  rim  of 
a  great  fountain  in  the  King's  garden,"  he  said. 
"You're  trying  to  find  some  trace  of  the  beautiful 
Princess  who  has  been  bewitched  and  carried  away 
to  a  castle  under  the  sea,  that  had  'a  ceiling  of 
amber,  a  pavement  of  pearl.' ' 

Georgina  looked  up,  delighted  that  he  had  used 


The  Rainbow  Game  237 

a  line  from  a  poem  she  loved.  It  made  her  feel  as 
if  he  were  an  old  friend. 

"This  is  for  a  fairy  tale  that  has  just  begun  to 
hatch  itself  out  in  my  mind,  so  you  see  it  isn't  all 
quite  clear  yet.  There'll  be  lily  pads  in  the  fountain. 
Maybe  you  can  hear  what  they  are  saying,  or  maybe 
the  gold-fish  will  bring  you  a  message,  because  you 
are  a  little  mortal  who  has  such  a  kind  heart  that 
you  have  been  given  the  power  to  understand  the 
speech  of  everything  which  creeps  or  swims  or  flies." 

Georgina  leaned  over  and  looked  into  the  imagi- 
nary fountain  dubiously,  forgetting  in  her  interest 
of  the  moment  that  her  companion  was  the  great  Mil- 
ford  Norris  Locke.  She  was  entering  with  him  into 
the  spirit  of  his  game  of  "pretend"  as  if  he  were 
Richard. 

"No,  I'll  tell  you,"  she  suggested.  "Have  it  a 
frog  instead  of  a  fish  that  brings  the  message.  He 
can  jump  right  out  of  that  lily  pad  on  to  the  edge 
of  the  fountain  where  I  am  sitting,  and  then  when 
you  look  at  the  picture  you  can  see  us  talking  to- 
gether. No  one  could  tell  what  I  was  doing  if  they 
saw  me  just  looking  down  into  the  fountain,  but  they 
could  tell  right  away  if  the  frog  was  here  and  I  was 
shaking  my  finger  at  him  as  if  I  were  saying : 

"  'Now  tell  me  the  truth,  Mr.  Frog,  or  the  Ogre 
of  the  Oozy  Marsh  shall  eat  you  ere  the  day  be 
done.'  " 


238        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Don't  move.  Don't  move !"  called  Mr.  Locke, 
excitedly.  "Ah,  that's  perfect.  That's  exactly  what 
I  want.  Hold  that  pose  for  a  moment  or  two.  Why, 
Georgina,  you've  given  me  exactly  what  I  wanted  and 
a  splendid  idea  besides.  It  will  give  the  fairy  tale  an 
entirely  new  turn.  If  you  can  only  hold  that  position 
a  bit  longer,  then  you  may  rest." 

His  pencil  flew  with  magical  rapidity  and  as  he 
sketched  he  kept  on  talking  in  order  to  hold  the  look 
of  intense  interest  which  showed  in  her  glowing 
face. 

"I  dearly  love  stories  like  that,"  sighed  Georgina 
when  he  came  to  the  end  and  told  her  to  lean  back 
and  rest  a  while. 

"Barby — I  mean  my  mother — and  I  act  them  all 
the  time,  and  sometimes  we  make  them  up  ourselves." 

"Maybe  you'll  write  them  when  you  grow  up," 
suggested  Mr.  Locke  not  losing  a  moment,  but 
sketching  her  in  the  position  she  had  taken  of  her 
own  accord. 

"Maybe  I  shall,"  exclaimed  Georgina,  thrilled 
by  the  thought.  "My  grandfather  Shirley  said  I 
could  write  for  his  paper  some  day.  You  know  he's 
an  editor,  down  in  Kentucky.  I'd  like  to  be  the  edi- 
tor of  a  magazine  that  children  would  adore  the  way 
I  do  the  St.  Nicholas." 

Tippy  would  have  said  that  Georgina  was  "run- 
ning on."  But  Mr.  Locke  did  not  think  so.  Chil- 
dren always  opened  their  hearts  to  him.  He  held  the 


The  Rainbow  Game  239 

magic  key.  Georgina  found  it  easier  to  tell  him  her 
inmost  feelings  than  anybody  else  in  the  world  but 
Barby. 

"That's  a  beautiful  game  you  and  Dicky  were 
playing  this  morning,"  he  remarked  presently,  "tag- 
ging each  other  with  rainbows.  I  believe  I'll  put  it 
into  this  fairy  tale,  have  the  water-nixies  do  it  as 
they  slide  over  the  water-fall." 

"But  it  isn't  half  as  nice  as  the  game  we  play  in 
earnest,"  she  assured  him.  "In  our  Rainbow  Club 
we  have  a  sort  of  game  of  tag.  We  tag  a  person 
with  a  good  time,  or  some  kindness  to  make  them 
happy,  and  we  pretend  that  makes  a  little  rainbow 
in  the  world.  Do  you  think  it  does?" 

"It  makes  a  very  real  one,  I  am  sure,"  was  the 
serious  answer.  "Have  you  many  members?" 

"Just  Richard  and  me  and  the  bank  president,  Mr. 
Gates,  so  far,  but — but  you  can  belong — if  you'd 
like  to." 

She  hesitated  a  trifle  over  the  last  part  of  her  in- 
vitation, having  just  remembered  what  a  famous 
man  she  was  talking  to.  He  might  think  she  was 
taking  a  liberty  even  to  suggest  that  he  might  care 
to  belong. 

"I'd  like  it  very  much,"  he  assured  her  gravely, 
"if  you  think  I  can  live  up  to  the  requirements." 

"Oh,  you  already  have,"  she  cried.  "Think  of  all 
the  happy  hours  you  have  made  for  people  with 
your  books  and  pictures — just  swarms  and  bevies 


240         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

and  flocks  of  rainbows !  We  would  have  put  you  on 
the  list  of  honorary  members  anyhow.  Those  are 
the  members  who  don't  know  they  are  members," 
she  explained.  "They're  just  like  the  prisms  them- 
selves. Prisms  don't  know  they  are  prisms  but  every- 
body who  looks  at  them  sees  the  beautiful  places  they 
make  in  the  world." 

"Georgina,"  he  said  solemnly,  "that  is  the  very 
loveliest  thing  that  was  ever  said  to  me  in  all  my 
life.  Make  me  club  member  number  four  and  I'll 
play  the  game  to  my  very  best  ability.  I'll  try  to  do 
some  tagging  really  worth  while." 

He  had  been  sketching  constantly  all  the  time  he 
talked,  and  now,  impelled  by  curiosity,  Georgina  got 
up  from  the  stone  bench  and  walked  over  to  take 
a  look  at  his  work.  He  had  laid  aside  the  several 
outline  studies  he  had  made  of  her,  and  was  now 
exercising  his  imagination  in  sketching  a  ship. 

"This  is  to  be  the  one  that  brings  the  Princess 
home,  and  in  a  minute  I  want  you  to  pose  for  the 
Princess,  for  she  is  to  have  curls,  long,  golden  ones, 
and  she  is  to  hold  her  head  as  you  did  a  few  mo- 
ments ago  when  you  were  talking  about  looking  off  to 

sea." 

( 

Georgina  brought  her  hands  together  in  a  quick 
gesture  as  she  said  imploringly,  "Oh,  do  put  Hope  at 
the  prow.  Every  time  I  pass  the  Figurehead  House 
and  see  Hope  sitting  up  on  the  portico  roof  I  wish  I 
could  see  how  she  looked  when  she  was  riding  the 


The  Rainbow  Game  241 

waves  on  the  prow  of  a  gallant  vessel.  That's  where 
she  ought  to  be,  I  heard  a  man  say.  He  said  Hope 
squatting  on  a  portico  roof  may  look  ridiculous,  but 
Hope  breasting  the  billows  is  superb." 

Mr.  Locke  was  no  stranger  in  the  town.  He  knew 
the  story  of  the  figurehead  as  the  townspeople  knew 
it,  now  he  heard  its  message  as  Uncle  Darcy  knew  it. 
He  listened  as  intently  to  Georgina  as  she  had  lis- 
tened to  him.  At  the  end  he  lifted  his  head,  peering 
fixedly  through  half-closed  eyes  at  nothing. 

"You  have  made  me  see  the  most  beautiful  ship," 
he  said,  musingly.  "It  is  a  silver  shallop  coming 
across  a  sea  of  Dreams,  its  silken  sails  set  wide,  and 
at  the  prow  is  an  angel.  'White-handed  Hope,  thou 
hovering  angel  girt  with  golden  wings,'  "  he  quoted. 
"Yes,  I'll  make  it  with  golden  wings  sweeping  back 
over  the  sides  this  way.  See?" 

His  pencil  flew  over  the  paper  again,  showing  her 
in  a  few  swift  strokes  an  outline  of  the  vision  she 
had  given  him. 

And  now  Tippy  would  have  said  not  only  that 
Georgina  was  "running  on,"  but  that  she  was  "wound 
up,"  for  with  such  a  sympathetic  and  appreciative 
listener,  she  told  him  the  many  things  she  would  have 
taken  to  Barby  had  she  been  at  home.  Especially, 
she  talked  about  her  difficulties  in  living  up  to  the 
aim  of  the  club.  In  stories  there  are  always  poor 
people  whom  one  can  benefit;  patient  sufferers  at 
hospitals,  pallid  children  of  the  slums.  But  in  the 


242         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

range  of  Georgina's  life  there  seemed  to  be  so  few 
opportunities  and  those  few  did  not  always  turn  out 
the  way  they  should. 

For  instance,  there  was  the  time  she  tried  to  cheer 
Tippy  up  with  her  "line  to  live  by,"  and  her  efforts 
were  neither  appreciated  nor  understood.  And  there 
was  the  time  only  yesterday  when  she  stayed  with 
Aunt  Elspeth,  and  got  into  trouble  with  the  eggs,  and 
now  had  a  debt  on  her  conscience  equal  to  eight  eggs 
or  twenty  cents. 

It  showed  how  well  Mr.  Locke  understood  chil- 
dren when  he  did  not  laugh  over  the  recital  of  that 
last  calamity,  although  it  sounded  unspeakably  funny 
to  him  as  Georgina  told  it.  In  such  congenial  com- 
pany the  time  flew  so  fast  that  Georgina  was  amazed 
when  Mr.  Milford  drove  up  to  take  his  distinguished 
guest  away.  Mr.  Locke  took  with  him  what  he 
had  hoped  to  get,  a  number  of  sketches  to  fill  in  at  his 
leisure. 

"They're  exactly  what  I  wanted,"  he  assured  her 
gratefully  as  he  shook  hands  at  parting.  "And  that 
suggestion  of  yours  for  the  ship  will  make  the  most 
fetching  illustration  of  all.  I'll  send  you  a  copy  in 
oils  when  I  get  time  for  it,  and  I'll  always  think  of 
you,  my  little  friend,  as  Georgina  of  the  Rainbows." 

With  a  courtly  bow  he  was  gone,  and  Georgina 
went  into  the  house  to  look  for  the  little  blank  book 
in  which  she  had  started  to  keep  her  two  lists  of 
Club  members,  honorary  and  real.  The  name  of 


The  Rainbow  Game  243 

Milford  Norris  Locke  she  wrote  in  both  lists.  If 
there  had  been  a  third  list,  she  would  have  written 
him  down  in  that  as  the  very  nicest  gentleman  she  had 
ever  met.  Then  she  began  a  letter  to  Barby,  telling 
all  about  her  wonderful  morning.  But  it  seemed  to 
her  she  had  barely  begun,  when  Mr.  Milford's  chauf- 
feur came  driving  back  with  something  for  her  in  a 
paper  bag.  When  she  peeped  inside  she  was  so  as- 
tonished she  nearly  dropped  it. 

"Eggs  1"  she  exclaimed.  Then  in  unconscious  imi- 
tation of  Mrs.  Saggs,  she  added,  "Can  you  beat 
that!" 

One  by  one  she  took  them  out  and  counted  them. 
There  were  exactly  eight.  Then  she  read  the  card 
which  had  dropped  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  bag. 

"Mr.  Milford  Norris  Locke." 

Above  the  name  was  a  tiny  rainbow  done  in  water 
colors,  and  below  was  scribbled  the  words,  "Last 
tag." 

It  was  a  pity  that  the  new  member  could  not 
have  seen  her  face  at  that  instant,  its  expression  was 
so  eloquent  of  surprise,  of  pleasure  and  of  relief  that 
her  trouble  had  thus  been  wiped  out  of  existence. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

LIGHT   DAWNS    FOR   UNCLE   DARCY 

T7OR  some  time  the  faint  jangle  of  a  bell  had  been 
•*•  sounding  at  intervals  far  down  the  street.  Or- 
dinarily it  would  have  caught  Georgina's  attention 
long  before  this,  but  absorbed  in  the  letter  to  which 
she  had  returned  after  putting  the  eggs  down  cel- 
lar, she  did  not  hear  the  ringing  until  it  was  near 
enough  for  the  Towncrier's  message  to  be  audible 
also.  He  was  announcing  the  extra  day  of  the  Ba- 
zaar, and  calling  attention  to  the  many  new  attrac- 
tions it  would  have  to  offer  on  the  morrow. 

Instantly,  Georgina  dropped  her  pencil  and  flew 
out  to  meet  him.  Here  was  an  opportunity  to  find 
out  all  about  the  Brewster  trip.  As  he  came  towards 
her  she  saw  the  same  look  in  his  weather-beaten  old 
face  which  she  had  wondered  at  the  day  before,  when 
he  was  bending  over  Aunt  Elspeth,  patting  her  on 
the  cheek.  It  was  like. the  shining  of  a  newly-lighted 
candle. 

She  was  not  the  only  one  who  had  noticed  it.  All 
the  way  up  the  street  glances  had  followed  him.  Peo- 
ple turned  for  a  second  look,  wondering  what  good 
fortune  had  befallen  the  old  fellow.  They  had  come 

244 


Light  Dawns  for  Uncle  Darcy      245 

to  expect  a  cheery  greeting  from  him.  He  always 
left  a  kindly  glow  behind  him  whenever  he  passed. 
But  to-day  the  cheeriness  was  so  intensified  that  he 
seemed  to  be  brimming  over  with  good  will  to  every- 
body. 

"Why,  Uncle  Darcy  I"  cried  Georgina.  "You  look 
so  happy!" 

"Well,  is  it  any  wonder,  lass,  with  such  news  from 
Danny?  Him  alive  and  well  and  sure  to  come  back 
to  me  some  of  these  days !  I  could  hardly  keep  from 
shouting  it  out  to  everybody  as  I  came  along  the 
street.  I'm  afraid  it'll  just  naturally  tell  itself  some 
day,  in  spite  of  my  promise  to  Belle.  I'm  glad  I 
can  let  off  steam  up  here,  you  knowing  the  secret,  too, 
for  this  old  heart  of  mine  is  just  about  to  burst  with 
all  the  gladness  that's  inside  of  me." 

Here  was  someone  as  anxious  to  tell  as  she  was 
to  hear;  someone  who  could  recall  every  word  of 
the  interview  with  the  wild-cat  woman.  Georgina 
swung  on  to  his  arm  which  held  the  bell,  and  began 
to  ask  questions,  and  nothing  loath,  he  let  her  lead 
him  into  the  yard  and  to  the  rustic  seat  running 
around  the  trunk  of  the  big  willow  tree.  He  was 
ready  to  rest,  now  that  his  route  was  traveled  and 
his  dollar  earned. 

Belle,  back  in  the  kitchen,  preparing  a  light  dinner 
for  herself  and  Georgina,  Tippy  being  away  for  the 
day,  did  not  see  him  come  in.  She  had  not  seen 
him  since  the  day  the  old  rifle  gave  up  its  secret,  and 


246         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

she  tried  to  put  him  out  of  her  mind  as  much  as 
possible,  for  she  was  miserable  every  time  she 
thought  of  him.  She  would  have  been  still  more 
miserable  could  she  have  heard  all  that  he  was  say- 
ing to  Georgina. 

"Jimmy  Milford  thought  that  the  liniment  folks 
calling  the  boy  'Dave,'  proved  that  he  wasn't  the 
same  as  my  Danny.  But  just  one  thing  would  have 
settled  all  doubts  for  me  if  I'd  a  had  any.  That  was 
what  he  kept  a  calling  in  his  fever  when  he  was  out 
of  his  head:  'Belle  mustn't  suffer.  Belle  must  be 
spared,  no  matter  what  happens !' 

"And  that's  the  one  thing  that  reconciles  me  to 
keeping  still  a  while  longer.  It  was  his  wish  to  spare 
her,  and  if  he  could  sacrifice  so  much  to  do  it,  I  can't 
make  his  sacrifice  seem  in  vain.  I  lay  awake  last 
night  till  nearly  daylight,  thinking  how  I'd  like  to 
take  this  old  bell  of  mine,  and  go  from  one  end  of 
the  town  to  the  other,  ringing  it  till  it  cracked,  cry- 
ing out,  'Danny  is  innocent,'  to  the  whole  world. 
But  the  time  hasn't  come  yet.  I'll  have  to  be  patient 
a  while  longer  and  bear  up  the  best  I  can." 

Georgina,  gazing  fixedly  ahead  of  her  at  noth- 
ing in  particular,  pondered  seriously  for  a  long,  si- 
lent moment. 

"If  you  did  that,"  she  said  finally,  "cried  the  good 
news  through  the  town  till  everybody  knew — then 
when  people  found  out  that  it  was  Emmett  Potter 
who  was  the  thief  and  that  he  was  too  much  of  a 


Light  Dawns  for  Uncle  Darcy      247 

coward  to  own  up  and  take  the  blame — would  they 
let  the  monument  go  on  standing  there,  that  they'd 
put  up  to  show  he  was  brave?  It  would  serve  him 
right  if  they  took  it  down,  wouldn't  it !"  she  exclaimed 
with  a  savage  little  scowl  drawing  her  brows  to- 
gether. 

"No,  no,  child!"  he  said  gently.  "Give  the  lad 
his  due.  He  was  brave  that  one  time.  He  saved  all 
I  those  lives  as  it  is  chiseled  on  his  headstone.  It  is 
better  he  should  be  remembered  for  the  best  act  in 
his  life  than  for  the  worst  one.  A  man's  measure 
should  be  taken  when  he's  stretched  up  to  his  full 
height,  just  as  far  as  he  can  lift  up  his  head;  not 
when  he's  stooped  to  the  lowest.  It's  only  fair  to 
judge  either  the  living  or  the  dead  that  way." 

For  some  time  after  that  nothing  more  was  said. 
The  harbor  was  full  of  boats  this  morning.  It  was 
a  sight  worth  watching.  One  naturally  drifted  into 
day-dreams,  following  the  sweep  of  the  sails  moving 
silently  toward  the  far  horizon.  Georgina  was  busy 
picturing  a  home-coming  scene  that  made  the  prodi- 
gal son's  welcome  seem  mild  in  comparison,  when 
Uncle  Darcy  startled  her  by  exclaiming: 

"Oh,  it  pays  to  bear  up  and  steer  right  onward! 
S'pose  I  hadn't  done  that.  S'pose  I  hadn't  kept  Hope 
at  the  prow.  I  believe  I'd  have  been  in  my  grave 
by  this  time  with  all  the  grief  and  worry.  But 
now " 

He  stopped  and  shook  his  head,  unable  to  find 


248         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

words  to  express  the  emotion  which  was  making  his 
voice  tremble  and  his  face  glow  with  that  wonder- 
ful inner  shining.  Georgina  finished  the  sentence 
for  him,  looking  out  on  the  sail-filled  harbor  and 
thinking  of  the  day  he  had  taken  her  out  in  his  boat 
to  tell  her  of  his  son. 

"But  now  you'll  be  all  ready  and  waiting  when 
your  ship  comes  home  from  sea  with  its  precious 
cargo."  They  were  his  own  words  she  was  repeat- 
ing. 

"Danny'll  weather  the  storms  at  last  and  come 
into  port  with  all  flags  flying." 

The  picture  her  words  suggested  was  too  much 
for  the  old  father.  He  put  his  hat  up  in  front  of  his 
face,  and  his  shoulders  shook  with  silent  sobs.  Geor- 
gina laid  a  sympathetic  little  hand  on  the  rough 
sleeve  next  her.  Suddenly  the  sails  in  the  harbor 
seemed  to  run  together  all  blurry  and  queer.  She 
drew  her  hand  across  her  eyes  and  looked  again  at 
the  heaving  shoulders.  A  happiness  so  deep  that  it 
found  its  expression  that  way,  filled  her  with  awe. 
It  must  be  the  kind  of  happiness  that  people  felt 
when  they  reached  "the  shining  shore,  the  other  side 
of  Jordan,"  and  their  loved  ones  came  down  to  wel- 
come them  "into  their  desired  haven." 

That  last  phrase  came  to  her  lips  like  a  bit  of  re- 
membered music  and  unconsciously  she  repeated  it 
aloud.  Uncle  Darcy  heard  it,  and  looked  up.  His 
cheeks  were  wet  when  he  put  down  his  hat,  but  it 


Light  Dawns  for  Uncle  Darcy      249 

was  the  happiest  face  she  had  ever  seen,  and  there 
was  no  shake  in  his  voice  now  when  he  said  solemnly: 

"And  nobody  but  the  good  Lord  who's  helped  his 
poor  sailors  through  shipwreck  and  storm,  knows 
how  mightily  they've  desired  that  haven,  or  what  it 
means  to  them  to  be  brought  into  it." 

A  delivery  wagon  from  one  of  the  fruit  stores 
stopped  in  front  of  the  gate,  and  the  driver  came  in, 
carrying  a  basket.  Uncle  Darcy  spoke  to  him  as  he 
passed  the  willow  tree. 

"Well,  Joe,  this  looks  like  a  chance  for  me  to  get 
a  lift  most  of  the  way  home." 

"Sure,"  was  the  cordial  reply.  "Climb  in.  I'll  be 
right  back." 

Georgina  thought  of  something  as  he  rose  to  go. 

"Oh,  wait  just  a  minute,  Uncle  Darcy,  I  want  to 
get  something  of  yours  that's  down  cellar." 

When  she  came  back  there  was  no  time  or  op- 
portunity for  an  explanation.  He  and  the  driver 
were  both  in  the  wagon.  She  reached  up  and  put 
the  bag  on  the  seat  beside  him. 

"I — I  did  something  to  some  of  your  eggs,  yester- 
day," she  stammered,  "and  these  are  to  take  the 
place  of  the  ones  I  broke." 

Uncle  Darcy  peered  into  the  bag  with  a  puzzled 
expression.  He  had  not  missed  any  eggs  from  the 
crock  of  bran.  He  didn't  know  what  she  was  talk- 
ing about.  But  before  he  could  ask  any  questions  the 
driver  slapped  the  horse  with  the  reins,  and  they  were 


250         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

rattling  off  down  street.  Georgina  stood  looking 
after  them  a  moment,  then  turned  her  head  to  lis- 
ten. Somebody  was  calling  her.  It  was  Belle,  who 
had  come  to  the  front  door  to  say  that  dinner  was 
ready. 

Whenever  Mrs.  Triplett  was  at  home,  Belle  made 
extra  efforts  to  talk  and  appear  interested  in  what 
was  going  on  around  her.  She  was  afraid  her  keen- 
eyed  Aunt  Maria  would  see  that  she  was  unhappy. 
But  alone  with  Georgina  who  shared  her  secret,  she 
relapsed  into  a  silence  so  deep  it  could  be  felt,  re- 
sponding only  with  a  wan  smile  when  the  child's 
lively  chatter  seemed  to  force  an  answer  of  some 
kind.  But  to-day  when  Georgina  came  to  the  table 
she  was  strangely  silent  herself,  so  mute  that  Belle 
noticed  it,  and  found  that  she  was  being  furtively 
watched  by  the  big  brown  eyes  opposite  her.  Every 
time  Belle  looked  up  she  caught  Georgina's  gaze  fast- 
ened on  her,  and  each  time  it  was  immediately  trans- 
ferred to  her  plate. 

"What's  the  matter,  Georgina?"  she  asked  finally. 
"Why  do  you  keep  staring  at  me?" 

Georgina  flushed  guiltily.  "Nothing,"  was  the 
embarrassed  answer.  "I  was  just  wondering 
whether  to  tell  you  or  not.  I  thought  maybe  you'd 
like  to  know,  and  maybe  you  ought  to  know,  but  I 
wasn't  sure  whether  you'd  want  me  to  talk  to  you 
about  it  or  not." 


Light  Dawns  for  Uncle  Darcy      25 1 

Belle  put  down  her  tea-cup.  It  was  her  turn  to 
stare. 

"For  goodness'  sake !  What  are  you  beating 
around  the  bush  about?" 

"About  the  news  from  Danny,"  answered  Geor- 
gina.  "About  the  letter  he  wrote  to  the  wild-cat 
woman  and  that  got  buried  in  the  dunes  too  deep 
ever  to  be  dug  up  again." 

As  this  was  the  first  Belle  had  heard  of  either  the 
letter  or  the  woman,  her  expression  of  astonish- 
ment was  all  that  Georgina  could  desire.  Her  news 
had  made  a  sensation.  Belle  showed  plainly  that 
she  was  startled,  and  as  eager  to  hear  as  Georgina 
was  to  tell.  So  she  began  at  the  beginning,  from  the 
time  of  the  opening  of  the  pouch  on  the  Green 
Stairs,  to  the  last  word  of  the  wild-cat  woman's  con- 
versation which  Uncle  Darcy  had  repeated  to  her 
only  a  few  moments  before  under  the  willow. 

Instinctively,  she  gave  the  recital  a  dramatic  touch 
which  made  Belle  feel  almost  like  an  eye  witness  as 
she  listened.  And  it  was  with  Uncle  Darcy's  own 
gestures  and  manner  that  she  repeated  his  final  state- 
ment. 

"Jimmy  Milford  thought  the  liniment  folks  call- 
ing the  boy  Dave  proved  he  wasn't  the  same  as  my 
Danny.  But  just  one  thing  would  have  settled  all 
doubts  for  me  if  I'd  had  any.  That  was  what  he 
kept  a  calling  in  his  fever  when  he  was  out  of  his 


252         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

head:  'Belle  mustn't  suffer.  Belle  must  be  spared 
no  matter  what  happens.' ' 

At  the  bringing  of  her  own  name  into  the  story 
Belle  gave  a  perceptible  start  and  a  tinge  of  red 
crept  into  her  pale  cheeks. 

"Did  he  say  that,  Georgina?"  she  demanded,  lean- 
ing forward  and  looking  at  her  intently.  "Are  you 
sure  those  are  his  exact  words?" 

"His  very-own-exactly-the-same  words,"  declared 
Georgina  solemnly.  "I  cross  my  heart  and  body 
they're  just  as  Uncle  Darcy  told  them  to  me." 

Rising  from  the  table,  Belle  walked  over  to  the 
window  and  stood  with  her  back  to  Georgina,  look- 
ing out  into  the  garden. 

"Well,  and  what  next?"  she  demanded  in  a  queer, 
breathless  sort  of  way. 

"And  then  Uncle  Darcy  said  that  his  saying  that 
was  the  one  thing  that  made  him  feel  willing  to  keep 
still  a  while  longer  about — you  know — what  was  in 
the  rifle.  'Cause  if  Danny  cared  enough  about  spar- 
ing you  to  give  up  home  and  his  good  name  and 
everything  else  in  life  he  couldn't  spoil  it  all  by  tell- 
ing now.  But  Uncle  Darcy  said  he  lay  awake  nearly 
all  last  night  thinking  how  he'd  love  to  take  that  old 
bell  of  his  and  go  ringing  it  through  the  town  till  it 
cracked,  calling  out  to  the  world,  'My  boy  is  inno- 
cent.' 

"And  when  I  said  something  about  it's  all  coming 
out  all  right  some  day,  and  that  Danny  would 


Light  Dawns  for  Uncle  Darcy      253 

weather  the  storms  and  come  into  port  with  all  flags 

flying "  Here  Georgina  lowered  her  voice  and 

went  on  slowly  as  if  she  hesitated  to  speak  of  what 
happened  next — "he  just  put  his  old  hat  over  his 
face  and  cried.  And  I  felt  so  sorry " 

Georgina's  voice  choked.  There  were  tears  in  her 
eyes  as  she  spoke  of  the  scene. 

"Don't!"  groaned  Belle,  her  back  still  turned. 

The  note  of  distress  in  Belle's  voice  stilled  Geor- 
gina's lively  tongue  a  few  seconds,  but  there  was  one 
more  thing  in  her  mind  to  be  said,  and  with  the  per- 
sistence of  a  mosquito  she  returned  to  the  subject  to 
give  that  final  stab,  quite  unconscious  of  how  deeply 
it  would  sting.  She  was  only  wondering  aloud,  some- 
thing which  she  had  often  wondered  to  herself. 

"I  should  think  that  when  anybody  had  suffered 
as  long  as  Danny  has  to  spare  you,  it  would  make 
you  want  to  spare  him.  Doesn't  it?  I  should  think 
that  you'd  want  to  do  something  to  sort  of  make  up 
to  him  for  it  all.  Don't  you?" 

"Oh,  don't!"  exclaimed  Belle  again,  sharply  this 
time.  Then  to  Georgina's  utter  amazement  she  bur- 
ied her  face  in  her  apron,  stood  sobbing  by  the  win- 
dow a  moment,  and  ran  out  of  the  room.  She  did 
not  come  downstairs  again  until  nearly  supper  time. 

Georgina  sat  at  the  table,  not  knowing  what  to 
do  next.  She  felt  that  she  had  muddled  things  dread- 
fully. Instead  of  making  Belle  feel  better  as  she 
hoped  to  do,  she  realized  she  had  hurt  her  in  some 


254         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

unintentional  way.  Presently,  she  slowly  drew  her- 
self up  from  her  chair  and  began  to  clear  the  table, 
piling  the  few  dishes  they  had  used,  under  the  dish- 
pan  in  the  sink.  The  house  stood  open  to  the  sum- 
mer breeze.  It  seemed  so  desolate  and  deserted 
with  Belle  upstairs,  drawn  in  alone  with  her  troubles 
and  Tippy  away,  that  she  couldn't  bear  to  stay  in  the 
silent  rooms.  She  wandered  out  into  the  yard  and 
climbed  up  into  the  willow  to  look  across  the  water. 

Somewhere  out  there  on  those  shining  waves, 
Richard  was  sailing  along,  in  the  party  given  for 
Mr.  Locke,  and  to-morrow  he  would  be  going  away 
on  the  yacht.  If  he  were  at  home  she  wouldn't  be 
up  in  the  willow  wondering  what  to  do  next.  Well, 
as  long  as  she  couldn't  have  a  good  time  herself 
she'd  think  of  someone  else  she  could  make  happy. 
For  several  minutes  she  sent  her  thoughts  wander- 
ing over  the  list  of  all  the  people  she  knew,  but  it 
seemed  as  if  her  friends  were  capable  of  making 
their  own  good  times,  all  except  poor  Belle.  Prob- 
ably she  never  would  be  happy  again,  no  matter  what 
anybody  did  to  try  to  brighten  her  life.  It  was  so 
discouraging  when  one  was  trying  to  play  the  game 
of  "Rainbow  Tag,"  for  there  to  be  no  one  to  tag. 
She  wished  she  knew  some  needy  person,  some  un- 
fortunate soul  who  would  be  glad  of  her  efforts  to 
make  them  happy. 

Once  she  thought  of  slipping  off  down  street  to 
the  library.  Miss  Tupman  always  let  her  go  in 


Light  Dawns  for  Uncle  Darcy      255 

where  the  shelves  were  and  choose  her  own  book. 
Miss  Tupman  was  always  so  interesting,  too,  more 
than  any  of  the  books  when  she  had  time  to  talk. 
But  that  grim  old  word  Duty  rose  up  in  front  of  her, 
telling  her  that  she  ought  not  to  run  away  and  leave 
the  house  all  open  with  Belle  locked  in  her  room  up- 
stairs. Somebody  ought  to  be  within  hearing  if 
the  telephone  rang  or  anyone  came.  She  went 
into  the  house  for  a  book  which  she  had  read  many 
times  but  which  never  failed  to  interest  her,  and 
curled  up  in  a  big  rocking  chair  on  the  front  porch. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  she  smelled  burning  pine 
chips  and  smoke  from  the  kitchen  chimney  which 
told  that  a  fire  was  being  started  in  the  stove.  After 
a  while  she  went  around  the  house  to  the  kitchen  door 
and  peeped  in,  apprehensively.  Belle  was  piling  the 
dinner  dishes  into  the  pan,  preparatory  to  washing 
them  while  supper  was  cooking.  Her  eyes  were  red 
and  she  did  not  look  up  when  Georgina  came  in,  but 
there  was  an  air  of  silent  determination  about  her 
as  forcible  as  her  Aunt  Maria's.  Picking  up  the 
tea-kettle,  she  filled  the  dishpan  and  carried  the  ket- 
tle back  to  the  stove,  setting  it  down  hard  before  she 
spoke.  Then  she  said : 

"Nobody'll  ever  know  what  I've  been  through 
with,  fighting  this  thing  out  with  myself.  I  can't  go 
all  the  way  yet.  I  can't  say  the  word  that'll  let  the 
blow  fall  on  poor  old  Father  Potter.  But  I  don't 
seem  to  care  about  my  part  of  it  any  more.  I  see 


256         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

things  differently  from  what  I  did  that  first  day — you 
know.      Even   Emmett   don't   seem   the    same    any 


more." 


For  several  minutes  there  was  a  rattling  of  dishes, 
but  no  further  speech  from  Belle.  Georgina,  not 
knowing  what  to  say  or  do,  stood  poised  uncertainly 
on  the  door-sill.  Then  Belle  spoke  again. 

"I'm  willing  it  should  be  told  if  only  it  could  be 
kept  from  getting  back  to  Father  Potter,  for  the 
way  Dan's  done  does  make  me  want  to  set  him  square 
with  the  world.  I  would  like  to  make  up  to  him  in 
some  way  for  all  he's  suffered  on  my  account.  I 
can't  get  over  it  that  it  was  him  that  had  all  the 
bravery  and  the  nobleness  that  I  was  fairly  worship- 
ing in  Emmett  all  these  years.  Seems  like  the  whole 
world  has  turned  upside  down." 

Georgina  waited  a  long  time,  but  Belle  seemed  to 
have  said  all  that  she  intended  to  say,  so  presently 
she  walked  over  and  stood  beside  the  sink. 

"Belle,"  she  said  slowly,  "does  what  you  said 
mean  that  you're  really  willing  I  should  tell  Barby? 
Right  away?" 

Belle  waited  an  instant  before  replying,  then  tak- 
ing a  deep  breath  as  if  about  to  make  a  desperate 
plunge  into  a  chasm  on  whose  brink  she  had  long 
been  poised,  said: 

"Yes.  Uncle  Dan'l  would  rather  have  her  know 
than  anybody  else.  He  sets  such  store  by  her  good 
opinion.  But  oh,  do  make  it  plain  it  mustn't  be 


Light  Dawns  for  Uncle  Darcy      257 

talked  about  outside,  so's  it'll  get  back  to  Father 
Potter." 

The  next  instant  Georgina's  arms  were  around 
her  in  a  silent  but  joyful  squeeze,  and  she  ran  up- 
stairs to  write  to  Barby  before  the  sun  should  go 
down  or  Tippy  get  back  from  the  Bazaar. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

A    CONTRAST   IN    FATHERS 

EORGINA  was  having  a  beautiful  day.  It  was 
the  first  time  she  had  ever  taken  part  in  a  Ba- 
zaar, and  so  important  was  the  role  assigned  her 
that  she  was  in  a  booth  all  by  herself.  Moreover, 
the  little  mahogany  chair  in  which  she  sat  was  on  a 
high  platform  inside  the  booth,  so  that  all  might  be- 
hold her.  Dressed  in  a  quaint  old  costume  borrowed 
from  the  chests  in  the  Figurehead  House,  she  rep- 
resented "A  Little  Girl  of  Long  Ago." 

On  a  table  beside  her  stood  other  borrowed  treas- 
ures from  the  Figurehead  House — a  doll  bedstead 
made  by  an  old  sea  captain  on  one  of  his  voyages. 
Each  of  its  high  posts  was  tipped  with  a  white  point, 
carved  from  the  bone  of  a  whale.  Wonderful  little 
patchwork  quilts,  a  feather  bed  and  tiny  pillows 
made  especially  for  the  bed,  were  objects  of  interest 
to  everyone  who  crowded  around  the  booth.  So 
were  the  toys  and  dishes  brought  home  from  other 
long  cruises  by  the  same  old  sea  captain,  who  evi- 
dently was  an  indulgent  father  and  thought  often 
of  the  little  daughter  left  behind  in  the  home  port. 
A  row  of  dolls  dressed  in  fashions  half  a  century  old 
were  also  on  exhibition. 

258 


A  Contrast  in  Fathers  259 

With  unfailing  politeness  Georgina  explained  to 
the  curious  summer  people  who  thronged  around 
her,  that  they  all  belonged  in  the  house  where  the 
figurehead  of  Hope  sat  on  the  portico  roof,  and 
were  not  for  sale  at  any  price. 

Until  to-day  Georgina  had  been  unconscious  that 
she  possessed  any  unusual  personal  charms,  except 
her  curls.  Her  attention  had  been  called  to  them 
from  the  time  she  was  old  enough  to  understand  re- 
marks people  made  about  them  as  she  passed  along 
the  street.  Their  beauty  would  have  been  a  great 
pleasure  to  her  if  Tippy  had  not  impressed  upon  her 
the  fact  that  looking  in  the  mirror  makes  one  vain, 
and  it's  wicked  to  be  vain.  One  way  in  which  Tippy 
guarded  her  against  the  sin  of  vanity  was  to  men- 
tion some  of  her  bad  points,  such  as  her  mouth  being 
a  trifle  too  large,  or  her  nose  not  quite  so  shapely  as 
her  mother's,  each  time  anyone  unwisely  called  at- 
tention to  her  "glorious  hair." 

Another  way  was  to  repeat  a  poem  from  a  book 
called  "Songs  for  the  Little  Ones  at  Home,"  the 
same  book  which  had  furnished  the  "Landing  of  the 
Pilgrims"  and  "Try,  Try  Again."  It  began: 

"What!  Looking  in  the  glass  again? 
Why's  my  silly  child  so  vain?" 

The  disgust,  the  surprise,  the  scorn  of  Tippy's 
voice  when  she  repeated  that  was  enough  to  make 


260         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

one  hurry  past  a  mirror  in  shame-faced  embarrass- 
ment. 

"Beauty  soon  will  fade  away. 
Your  rosy  cheeks  must  soon  decay. 
There's  nothing  lasting  you  will  find, 
But  the  treasures  of  the  mind." 

Rosy  cheeks  might  not  be  lasting,  but  it  was  cer- 
tainly pleasant  to  Georgina  to  hear  them  compli- 
mented so  continually  by  passers-by.  Sometimes  the 
remarks  were  addressed  directly  to  her. 

"My  dear,"  said  one  enthusiastic  admirer,  "if  I 
could  only  buy  you  and  put  you  in  a  gold  frame,  I'd 
have  a  prettier  picture  than  any  artist  in  town  can 
paint."  Then  she  turned  to  a  companion  to  add: 

"Isn't  she  a  love  in  that  little  poke  bonnet  with 
the  row  of  rose-buds  inside  the  rim?  I  never  saw 
such  exquisite  coloring  or  such  gorgeous  eyes." 

Georgina  blushed  and  looked  confused  as  she 
smoothed  the  long  lace  mitts  over  her  arms.  But 
by  the  time  the  day  was  over  she  had  heard  the  senti- 
ment repeated  so  many  times  that  she  began  to  ex- 
pect it  and  to  feel  vaguely  disappointed  if  it  were 
not  forthcoming  from  each  new  group  which  ap- 
proached her. 

Another  thing  gave  her  a  new  sense  of  pleasure 
and  enriched  her  day.  On  the  table  beside  her,  under 


A  Contrast  in  Fathers  261 

a  glass  case,  to  protect  it  from  careless  handling, 
was  a  little  blank  book  which  contained  the  records 
of  the  first  sewing  circle  in  Provincetown.  The 
book  lay  open,  displaying  a  page  of  the  minutes,  and 
a  column  of  names  of  members,  written  in  an  ex- 
quisitely fine  and  beautiful  hand.  The  name  of 
Georgina's  great-great  grandmother  was  in  that  col- 
umn. It  gave  her  a  feeling  of  being  well  born  and 
distinguished  to  be  able  to  point  it  out. 

The  little  book  seemed  to  reinforce  and  emphasize 
the  claims  of  the  monument  and  the  silver  porringer. 
She  felt  it  was  so  nice  to  be  beautiful  and  to  belong; 
to  have  belonged  from  the  beginning  both  to  a  first 
family  and  a  first  sewing  circle. 

Still  another  thing  added  to  her  contentment  when- 
ever the  recollection  of  it  came  to  her.  There  was 
no  longer  any  secret  looming  up  between  her  and 
Barby  like  a  dreadful  wall.  The  letter  telling  all 
about  the  wonderful  and  exciting  things  which  had 
happened  in  her  absence  was  already  on  its  way  to 
Kentucky.  It  was  not  a  letter  to  be  proud  of.  It 
was  scrawled  as  fast  as  she  could  write  it  with  a 
pencil,  and  she  knew  perfectly  well  that  a  dozen 
or  more  words  were  misspelled,  but  she  couldn't 
take  time  to  correct  them,  or  to  think  of  easy  words 
to  put  in  their  places.  But  Barby  wouldn't  care. 
She  would  be  so  happy  for  Uncle  Darcy's  sake  and 
so  interested  in  knowing  that  her  own  little  daughter 


262         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

had  had  an  important  part  in  finding  the  good  news 
that  she  wouldn't  notice  the  spelling  or  the  scraggly 
writing. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  Georgina,  growing  more  and 
more  satisfied  with  herself  and  her  lot,  felt  that  there 
was  no  one  in  the  whole  world  with  whom  she  would 
change  places.  Towards  the  last  of  the  afternoon 
a  group  of  people  came  in  whom  Georgina  recog- 
nized as  a  family  from  the  Gray  Inn.  They  had 
been  at  the  Inn  several  days,  and  she  had  noticed 
them  each  time  she  passed  them,  because  the  chil- 
dren seemed  on  such  surprisingly  intimate  terms  with 
their  father.  That  he  was  a  naval  officer  she  knew 
from  the  way  he  dressed,  and  that  he  was  on  a  long 
furlough  she  knew  from  some  remark  which  she 
overheard. 

He  had  a  grave,  stern  face,  and  when  he  came  into 
the  room  he  gave  a  searching  glance  from  left  to 
right  as  if  to  take  notice  of  every  object  in  it.  His 
manner  made  Georgina  think  of  "Casabianca,"  an- 
other poem  of  Tippy's  teaching: 

"He  stood 
As  born  to  rule  the  storm. 

A  creature  of  heroic  blood, 
A  brave  though form." 

"Childlike"  was  the  word  she  left  out  because  it 
did  not  fit  in  this  case.  "A  brave  and  manlike  form" 


A  Contrast  in  Fathers  263 

would  be  better.  She  repeated  the  verse  to  herself 
with  this  alteration. 

When  he  spoke  to  his  little  daughter  or  she  spoke 
to  him  his  expression  changed  so  wonderfully  that 
Georgina  watched  him  with  deep  interest.  The  old- 
est boy  was  with  them.  He  was  about  fourteen  and 
as  tall  as  his  mother.  He  was  walking  beside  her 
but  every  few  steps  he  turned  to  say  something  to 
the  others,  and  they  seemed  to  be  enjoying  some 
joke  together.  Somebody  who  knew  them  came  up 
as  they  reached  the  booth  of  "The  Little  Girl  of 
Long  Ago,"  and  introduced  them  to  Georgina,  so 
she  found  out  their  names.  It  was  Burrell.  He 
was  a  Captain,  and  the  children  were  Peggy  and 
Bailey. 

As  Georgina  looked  down  at  Peggy  from  the  lit- 
tle platform  where  she  sat  in  the  old  mahogany  chair, 
she  thought  with  a  throb  of  satisfaction  that  she 
was  glad  she  didn't  have  to  change  places  with  that 
homely  little  thing.  Evidently,  Peggy  was  just  up 
from  a  severe  illness.  Her  hair  had  been  cut  so 
short  one  could  scarcely  tell  the  color  of  it.  She 
was  so  thin  and  white  that  her  eyes  looked  too  large 
for  her  face  and  her  neck  too  slender  for  her  head, 
and  the  freckles  which  would  scarcely  have  shown 
had  she  been  her  usual  rosy  self,  stood  out  like  big 
brown  spotches  on  her  pallid  little  face.  She  limped 
a  trifle  too,  as  she  walked. 

With  a  satisfied  consciousness  of  her  own  rose- 


264         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

leaf  complexion,  Georgina  was  almost  patronizing 
as  she  bent  over  the  table  to  say  graciously  once  more 
after  countless  number  of  times,  "no,  that  is  not  for 
sale." 

The  next  instant  Peggy  was  swinging  on  her  fath- 
er's arm  exclaiming,  "Oh,  Dad-o'-my-heart !  See  that 
cunning  doll  bathing  suit.  Please  get  it  for  me." 
Almost  in  the  same  breath  Bailey,  jogging  the  Cap- 
tain's elbow  on  the  other  side,  exclaimed,  "Look, 
Partner,  that's  a  relic  worth  having." 

Georgina  listened,  fascinated.  To  think  of  call- 
ing one's  father  "Dad-o'-my-heart"  or  "Partner!" 
And  they  looked  up  at  him  as  if  they  adored  him, 
even  that  big  boy,  nearly  grown.  And  a  sort  of 
laugh  come  into  the  Captain's  eyes  each  time  they 
spoke  to  him,  as  if  he  thought  everything  they  said 
and  did  was  perfect. 

A  wave  of  loneliness  swept  over  Georgina  as  she 
listened.  There  was  an  empty  spot  in  her  heart  that 
ached  with  longing — not  for  Barby,  but  for  the 
father  whom  she  had  never  known  in  this  sweet  inti- 
mate way.  She  knew  now  how  it  felt  to  be  an  or- 
phan. What  satisfaction  was  there  in  having 
beautiful  curls  if  no  big,  kind  hand  ever  passed  over 
them  in  a  fatherly  caress  such  as  was  passing  over 
Peggy  Burrell's  closely-clipped  head?  What  pleas- 
ure was  there  in  having  people  praise  you  if  they 
said  behind  your  back: 

"Oh,  that's  Justin  Huntingdon's  daughter.    Don't 


A  Contrast  in  Fathers  265 

you  think  a  man  would  want  to  come  home  once  or 
twice  in  a  lifetime  to  such  a  lovely  child  as  that?" 

Georgina  had  heard  that  very  remark  earlier  in 
the  day,  also  the  answer  given  with  a  significant  shrug 
of  the  shoulders : 

"Oh,  he  has  other  fish  to  fry." 

The  remarks  had  not  annoyed  her  especially  at  the 
time,  but  they  rankled  now  as  she  recalled  them. 
They  hurt  until  they  took  all  the  pleasure  and  satis- 
faction out  of  her  beautiful  day,  just  as  the  sun,  go- 
ing under  a  cloud,  leaves  the  world  bereft  of  all  its 
shine  and  sparkle.  She  looked  around,  wishing  it 
were  time  to  go  home. 

Presently,  Captain  Burrell,  having  made  the 
rounds  of  the  room,  came  back  to  Georgina.  He 
smiled  at  her  so  warmly  that  she  wondered  that  she 
could  have  thought  his  face  was  stern. 

"They  tell  me  that  you  are  Doctor  Huntingdon's 
little  girl,"  he  said  with  a  smile  that  went  straight 
to  her  heart.  "So  I've  come  back  to  ask  you  all 
about  him.  Where  is  he  now  and  how  is  he?  You 
see  I  have  an  especial  interest  in  your  distinguished 
father.  He  pulled  me  through  a  fever  in  the  Philip- 
pines that  all  but  ended  me.  I  have  reason  to  re- 
member him  for  his  many,  many  kindnesses  to  me  at 
that  time." 

The  flush  that  rose  to  Georgina's  face  might  nat- 
urally have  been  taken  for  one  of  pride  or  pleasure, 
but  it  was  only  miserable  embarrassment  at  not  be- 


266         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

ing  able  to  answer  the  Captain's  questions.  She 
could  not  bear  to  confess  that  she  knew  nothing  of 
her  father's  whereabouts  except  the  vague  fact  that 
he  was  somewhere  in  the  interior  of  China,  and  that 
there  had  been  no  letter  from  him  for  months  and 
that  she  had  not  seen  him  for  nearly  four  years. 

"He — he  was  well  the  last  time  we  heard  from 
him,"  she  managed  to  stammer.  "But  I  haven't 
heard  anything  lately.  You  know  my  mother  isn't 
home  now.  She  went  to  Kentucky  because  my  grand- 
father Shirley  was  hurt  in  an  accident." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  was  the  answer  in 
a  cordial,  sympathetic  voice.  "I  hoped  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  her  and  I  wanted  Mrs.  Burrell 
to  know  her,  too.  But  I  hope  you'll  come  over  to 
the  Inn  and  play  with  Peggy  sometimes.  We'll  be 
here  another  week." 

Georgina  thanked  him  in  her  prettiest  manner,  but 
she  was  relieved  when  he  passed  on,  and  she  was 
freed  from  the  fear  of  any  more  embarrassing  ques- 
tions about  her  father.  Yet  her  hand  still  tingled 
with  the  friendliness  of  his  good-bye  clasp,  and  she 
wished  that  she  could  know  him  better.  As  she 
watched  him  pass  out  of  the  door  with  Peggy  hold- 
ing his  hand  and  swinging  it  as  they  walked,  she 
thought  hungrily : 

"How  good  it  must  seem  to  have  a  father  like 
that." 

Mrs.  Triplett  came  up  to  her  soon  after.     It  was 


A  Contrast  in  Fathers  267 

time  to  close  the  Bazaar.  The  last  probable  cus- 
tomer had  gone,  and  the  ladies  in  charge  of  the 
booths  were  beginning  to  dismantle  them.  Some- 
(one's  chauffeur  was  waiting  to  take  Georgina's  cos- 
tume back  to  the  Figurehead  House. 

She  followed  Mrs.  Triplett  obediently  into  an 
improvised  dressing-room  in  the  corner,  behind  a 
tall  screen,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  was  about  to 
emerge  clad  in  her  own  clothes,  when  Mrs.  Triplett 
exclaimed: 

"For  pity  sakes!    Those  gold  beads!" 

Georgina's  hand  went  up  to  the  string  of  gold 
beads  still  around  her  neck.  They  also  were  bor- 
rowed from  Mrs.  Tupman  of  the  Figurehead  House. 

"I  was  going  to  ask  Mrs.  Tupman  to  take  them 
home  herself,"  said  Mrs.  Triplett,  "but  she  left 
earlier  than  I  thought  she  would,  and  I  had  no  chance 
to  say  anything  about  them.  We  oughtn't  to  trust 
anything  as  valuable  as  gold  beads  that  are  an  heir- 
loom to  any  outsider,  no  matter  how  honest.  They 
might  be  lost.  Suppose  you  just  wear  them  home 
to  her.  Do  you  feel  like  doing  that?  And  keep 
them  on  your  neck  till  she  unclasps  them  with  her 
own  hands.  Don't  leave  them  with  a  servant." 

Georgina,  tired  of  sitting  all  day  in  the  booth,  was 
glad  of  an  excuse  for"  a  long  walk.  It  was  almost 
six  o'clock,  but  the  sun  was  still  high.  As  she  went 
along,  jostled  off  the  narrow  sidewalk  and  back  on 
to  it  again  every  few  steps  by  the  good-natured  crowd 


268         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

which  swarmed  the  streets  at  this  hour,  she  could 
smell  supper  cooking  in  the  houses  along  the  way. 
It  would  be  delayed  in  many  homes  because  the  tide 
was  in  and  people  were  running  down  the  beach 
from  the  various  cottages  for  a  dip  into  the  sea. 
Some  carried  their  bathing  suit's  in  bundles,  some 
wore  them  under  raincoats  or  dressing  gowns,  and 
some  walked  boldly  along"  bare-armed  and  bare- 
legged in  the  suits  themselves. 

It  was  a  gay  scene,  with  touches  of  color  in  every 
direction.  Vivid  green  grass  in  all  the  door-yards, 
masses  of  roses  and  hollyhocks  and  clematis  against 
the  clean  white  of  the  houses.  Color  of  every  shade 
in  the  caps  and  sweaters  and  bathing  suits  and  float- 
ing motor  veils  and  parasols,  jolly  laughter  every- 
where, and  friendly  voices  calling  back  and  forth 
across  the  street.  It  was  a  holiday  town  full  of 
happy  holiday  people. 

Georgina,  skipping  along  through  the  midst  of  it, 
added  another  pretty  touch  of  color  to  the  scene,  with 
'her  blue  ribbons  and  hat  with  the  forget-me-nots 
around  it,  but  if  her  thoughts  could  have  been  seen, 
they  would  have  showed  a  sober  drab.  The  meeting 
with  Captain  Burrell  had  left  her  depressed  and 
unhappy.  The  thought  uppermost  in  her  mind  was 
why  should  there  be  such  a  difference  in  fathers? 
Why  should  Peggy  Burrell  have  such  an  adorable 
one,  and  she  be  left  to  feel  like  an  orphan? 

When  she  reached  the  Figurehead  House  she  was 


A  Contrast  in  Fathers  269 

told  that  Mrs.  Tupman  had  stepped  out  to  a  neigh- 
bor's for  a  few  minutes  but  would  be  right  back. 
She  could  have  left  the  beads  with  a  member  of  the 
family,  but  having  been  told  to  deliver  them  into 
the  hands  of  the  owner  only,  she  sat  down  in  the 
swing  in  the  yard  to  wait. 

From  where  she  sat  she  could  look  up  at  the 
figurehead  over  the  portico.  It  was  the  best  oppor- 
tunity she  had  ever  had  for  studying  it  closely.  Al- 
ways before  she  had  been  limited  to  the  few  seconds 
that  were  hers  in  walking  or  driving  by.  Now  she 
could  sit  and  gaze  at  it  intently  as  she  pleased. 

The  fact  that  it  was  weather-stained  and  dark  as 
an  Indian  with  the  paint  worn  off  its  face  in  patches, 
only  enhanced  its  interest  in  her  eyes.  It  seemed 
to  bear  the  scars  of  one  who  has  suffered  and  come 
up  through  great  tribulation.  No  matter  how  bat- 
tered this  Lady  of  Mystery  was  in  appearance,  to 
Georgina  she  still  stood  for  "Hope,"  clinging  to  her 
wreath,  still  facing  the  future  with  head  held  high, 
the  symbol  of  all  those,  who  having  ships  at  sea, 
watch  and  wait  for  their  home-coming  with  proud, 
undaunted  courage. 

Only  an  old  wooden  image,  but  out  of  a  past  of 
shipwreck  and  storm  its  message  survived  and  in 
some  subtle  manner  found  its  way  into  the  heart  of 
Georgina. 

"And  I'll  do  it,  too,"  she  resolved  valiantly,  look- 
ing up  at  it.  "I'm  going  to  hope  so  hard  that  he'll 


270         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

be  the  way  I  want  him  to  be,  that  he'll  just  have  to. 
And  if  he  isn't — then  I'll  just  steer  straight  onward 
as  if  I  didn't  mind  it,  so  Barby'll  never  know  how 
disappointed  I  am.  Barby  must  never  know  that." 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  gold  beads  being  deliv- 
ered into  Mrs.  Tupman's  own  hands,  Georgina  took 
her  way  homeward,  considerably  lighter  of  heart, 
for  those  moments  of  reflection  in  the  swing.  As 
she  passed  the  antique  shop  a  great  gray  cat  on  the 
door-step,  rose  and  stretched  itself. 

"Nice  kitty!"  she  said,  stopping  to  smooth  the 
thick  fur  which  stood  up  as  he  arched  his  back. 

It  was  "Grandpa,"  to  whose  taste  for  fish  she 
owed  her  prism  and  the  bit  of  philosophy  which  was 
to  brighten  not  only  her  own  life  but  all  those  which 
touched  hers.  But  she  passed  on,  unconscious  of  her 
debt  to  him. 

When  she  reached  the  Gray  Inn  she  walked  more 
slowly,  for  on  the  beach  back  of  it  she  saw  several 
people  whom  she  recognized.  Captain  Burrell  was 
in  the  water  with  Peggy  and  Bailey  and  half  a  dozen 
other  children  from  the  Inn.  They  were  all  splash- 
ing and  laughing.  They  seemed  to  be  having  some 
sort  of  a  game.  She  stood  a  moment  wishing  that 
she  had  on  her  bathing  suit  and  was  down  in  the 
water  with  them.  She  could  swim  better  than  any 
of  the  children  there.  But  she  hadn't  been  in  the 
sea  since  Barby  left.  That  was  one  of  the  things 


A  Contrast  in  Fathers  271 

she  promised  in  their  dark  hour  of  parting,  not  to 
go  in  while  Barby  was  gone. 

While  she  stood  there,  Mrs.  Burrell  came  out  on 
the  piazza  of  the  Inn,  followed  by  the  colored  nurse 
with  the  baby  who  was  just  learning  to  walk.  The 
Captain,  seeing  them,  threw  up  his  hand  to  signal 
them.  Mrs.  Burrell  fluttered  her  handkerchief  in 
reply. 

Georgina  watched  the  group  in  the  water  a  mo- 
ment longer,  then  turned  and  walked  slowly  on.  She 
felt  that  if  she  could  do  it  without  having  to  give  up 
Barby,  she'd  be  willing  to  change  places  with  Peggy 
Burrell.  She'd  take  her  homely  little  pale,  freckled 
face,  straight  hair  and — yes,  even  her  limp,  for  the 
right  to  cling  to  that  strong  protecting  shoulder  as 
Peggy  was  doing  there  in  the  water,  and  to  whisper 
in  his  ear,  "Dad-o-my-heart." 


CHAPTER    XXV 

A    LETTER   TO    HONG-KONG 

THERE  are  some  subjects  one  hesitates  to  dis- 
cuss with  one's  family.  It  is  easier  to  seek 
information  from  strangers  or  servants,  who  do  not 
feel  free  to  come  back  at  you  with  the  disconcerting 
question,  "But  why  do  you  ask?" 

It  was  with  the  half-formed  resolution  of  leading 
up  to  a  certain  one  of  these  difficult  subjects  if  she 
could,  that  Georgina  wandered  down  the  beach  next 
morning  to  a  little  pavilion  near  the  Gray  Inn.  It 
was  occupied  by  Peggy  Burrell,  her  baby  brother  and 
the  colored  nurse  Melindy. 

Georgina,  sorely  wanting  companionship  now  that 
Richard  and  Captain  Kidd  were  off  on  their  yacht- 
ing trip,  was  thankful  that  Mrs.  Triplett  had  met 
Captain  Burrell  the  day  before  at  the  Bazaar,  and 
had  agreed  with  him  that  Georgina  and  Peggy  ought 
to  be  friends  because  their  fathers  were.  Otherwise, 
the  occupants  of  the  pavilion  would  have  been 
counted  as  undesirable  playmates  being  outside  the 
pale  of  her  acquaintance. 

Peggy  welcomed  her  joyfully.  She  wasn't  strong 
enough  yet  to  go  off  on  a  whole  morning's  fishing 
trip  with  brother  and  Daddy,  she  told  Georgina,  and 
her  mother  was  playing  bridge  on  the  hotel  piazza. 
Peggy  was  a  little  thing,  only  eight,  and  Georgina 

272 


A  Letter  to  Hong-Kong  273 

not  knowing  what  to  do  to  entertain  her,  resurrected 
an  old  play  that  she  had  not  thought  of  for  several 
summers.  She  built  Grandfather  Shirley's  house  in 
the  sand. 

It  took  so  long  to  find  the  right  kind  of  shells 
with  which  to  make  the  lanterns  for  the  gate-posts, 
and  to  gather  the  twigs  of  bayberry  and  beach  plum 
for  the  avenues  (she  had  to  go  into  the  dunes  for 
them),  that  the  question  she  was  intending  to  ask 
Melindy  slipped  from  her  mind  for  a  while.  It 
came  back  to  her,  however,  as  she  scooped  a  place 
in  the  wall  of  pebbles  and  wet  sand  which  stood  for 
the  fence. 

"Here's  the  place  where  the  postman  drops  the 
mail." 

Then  she  looked  up  at  Melindy,  the  question  on 
the  tip  of  her  tongue.  But  Peggy,  on  her  knees,  was 
watching  her  so  intently  that  she  seemed  to  be  look- 
ing straight  into  her  mouth  every  time  it  opened, 
and  her  courage  failed  her.  Instead  of  saying  what 
she  had  started  to  say,  she  exclaimed: 

"Here's  the  hole  in  the  fence  where  the  little  pigs 
squeezed  through."  Then  she  told  the  story  that 
went  with  this  part  of  the  game.  When  it  was  time 
to  put  in  the  bee-hives,  however,  and  Peggy  volun- 
teered to  look  up  and  down  the  beach  for  the  right 
kind  of  a  pebble  to  set  the  bee-hives  on,  Georgina 
took  advantage  of  the  moment  alone  with  Melindy. 
There  wasn't  time  to  lead  up  to  the  question  prop- 


274         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

erly.  There  wasn't  even  time  to  frame  the  question 
in  such  a  way  that  it  would  seem  a  casual,  matter- 
of-course  one.  Georgina  was  conscious  that  the 
blood  was  surging  up  into  her  cheeks  until  they  must 
seem  as  red  as  fire.  She  leaned  forward  toward  the 
sand-pile  she  was  shaping  till  her  curls  fell  over  her 
face.  Then  she  blurted  out : 

"How  often  do  husbands  write  to  wives?" 

Melindy  either  did  not  hear  or  did  not  under- 
stand, and  Georgina  had  the  mortifying  experience 
of  repeating  the  question.  It  was  harder  to  give 
utterance  to  it  the  second  time  than  the  first.  She 
was  relieved  when  Melindy  answered  without  show- 
ing any  surprise. 

"Why,  most  every  week  I  reckon,  when  they 
loves  'em.  Leastways  white  folks  do.  It  comes  easy 
to  them  to  write.  An'  I  lived  in  one  place  where  the 
lady  got  a  lettah  every  othah  day." 

"But  I  mean  when  the  husband's  gone  for  a  long, 
long  time,  off  to  sea  or  to  another  country,  and  is 
dreadfully  busy,  like  Captain  Burrell  is  when  he's 
on  his  ship." 

Melindy  gave  a  short  laugh.  "Huh !  Let  me  tell 
you,  honey,  when  a  man  wants  to  write  he's  gwine 
to  write,  busy  or  no  busy." 

Later,  Georgina  went  home  pondering  Melindy's 
answer.  "Most  every  week  when  they  love's  'em. 
Sometimes  every  other  day."  And  Barby  had  had 
no  letter  for  over  four  months. 


A  Letter  to  Hong-Kong  275 

Something  happened  that  afternoon  which  had 
never  happened  before  in  all  Georgina's  experience. 
She  was  taken  to  the  Gray  Inn  to  call.  Mrs.  Trip- 
lett,  dressed  in  her  new  black  summer  silk,  took  her. 

"As  long  as  Barbara  isn't  here  to  pay  some  at- 
tention to  that  Mrs.  Burrell,"  Tippy  said  to  Belle, 
"it  seems  to  me  it's  my  place  as  next  of  kin.  The 
Captain  couldn't  get  done  saying  nice  things  about 
Justin." 

Evidently,  she  approved  of  both  Mrs.  Burrell  and 
Peggy,  for  when  each  begged  that  Georgina  be  al- 
lowed to  stay  to  supper  she  graciously  gave  per- 
mission. 

"Peggy  has  taken  the  wildest  fancy  to  you,  dear," 
Mrs.  Burrell  said  in  an  aside  to  Georgina.  "You 
gave  her  a  beautiful  morning  on  the  beach.  The 
poor  little  thing  has  suffered  so  much  with  her  lame 
knee,  that  we  are  grateful  to  anyone  who  makes  her 
forget  all  that  she  has  gone  through.  It's  only  last 
week  that  she  could  have  the  brace  taken  off.  She 
hasn't  been  able  to  run  and  play  like  other  children 
for  two  years,  but  we're  hoping  she  may  outgrow  the 
trouble  in  time." 

The  dining-room  of  the  Gray  Inn  overlooked  the 
sea,  and  was  so  close  to  the  water  one  had  the  feel- 
ing of  being  in  a  boat,  when  looking  out  of  its  win- 
dows. There  were  two  South  American  transports 
in  the  harbor.  Some  of  the  officers  had  come  ashore 
and  were  dining  with  friends  at  the  Gray  Inn.  Af- 


276         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

terwards  they  stayed  to  dance  a  while  in  the  long 
parlor  with  the  young  ladies  of  the  party. 

Peggy  and  Georgina  sat  on  the  piazza  just  out- 
side one  of  the  long  French  windows,  where  they 
could  watch  the  gay  scene  inside.  It  seemed  almost 
as  gay  outside,  when  one  turned  to  look  across  the 
harbor  filled  with  moving  lights.  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Burrell  were  outside  also.  They  sat  farther  down 
the  piazza,  near  the  railing,  talking  to  one  of  the 
officers  who  was  not  dancing.  Once  when  the  music 
stopped,  Peggy  turned  to  Georgina  to  say: 

"Do  you  hear  Daddy  speaking  Spanish  to  that 
officer  from  South  America?  Doesn't  he  do  it  well? 
I  can  understand  a  little  of  what  they  say  because 
we  lived  in  South  America  a  while  last  year.  We 
join  him  whenever  he  is  stationed  at  a  port  where 
officers  can  take  their  families.  He  says  that  chil- 
dren of  the  navy  have  to  learn  to  be  regular  gypsies. 
I  love  going  to  new  places.  How  many  languages 
can  your  father  speak?" 

Georgina,  thus  suddenly  questioned,  felt  that  she 
would  rather  die  than  acknowledge  that  she  knew  so 
little  of  her  father  that  she  could  not  answer.  She 
was  saved  the  mortification  of  confessing  it,  however, 
by  the  music  striking  up  again  at  that  moment. 

"Oh,  I  can  play  that!"  she  exclaimed.  "That's 
the  dance  of  the  tarantula.  Isn't  it  a  weird  sort  of 
thing?" 


A  Letter  to  Hong-Kong  277 

The  air  of  absorbed  interest  with  which  Georgina 
turned  to  listen  to  the  music  made  Peggy  forget  her 
question,  and  listen  in  the  same  way.  She  wanted 
to  do  everything  in  the  same  way  that  Georgina  did 
it,  and  from  that  moment  that  piece  of  music  held 
special  charm  for  her  because  Georgina  called  it 
weird. 

The  next  time  Georgina  glanced  down  the  piazza 
Mrs.  Burrell  was  alone.  In  her  dimly-lighted  cor- 
ner, she  looked  like  one  of  the  pretty  summer  girls 
one  sees  sometimes  on  a  magazine  cover.  She  was 
all  in  white  with  a  pale  blue  wrap  of  some  kind  about 
her  that  was  so  soft  and  fleecy  it  looked  like  a  pale 
blue  cloud.  Georgina  found  herself  looking  down 
that  way  often,  with  admiring  glances.  She  happened 
to  have  her  eyes  turned  that  way  when  the  Captain 
came  back  and  stood  beside  her  chair.  The  blue 
wrap  had  slipped  from  her  shoulders  without  her 
notice,  and  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up.  Then  he 
drew  the  soft,  warm  thing  up  around  her,  and  bend- 
ing over,  laid  his  cheek  for  just  an  instant  against 
hers. 

It  was  such  a  fleeting  little  caress  that  no  one  saw 
it  but  Georgina,  and  she  turned  her  eyes  away  in- 
stantly, feeling  that  she  had  no  right  to  look,  yet 
glad  that  she  had  seen,  because  of  the  warm  glow 
it  sent  through  her.  She  couldn't  tell  why,  but  some- 
how the  world  seemed  a  happier  sort  of  place  for 
everybody  because  such  things  happened  in  it. 


278         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"I  wonder,"  she  thought  wistfully,  as  her  eyes 
followed  the  graceful  steps  of  the  foreign  dancers 
and  her  thoughts  stayed  with  what  she  had  just 
witnessed,  "I  wonder  if  that  had  been  Barby  and  my 
father,  would  hef" 

But  she  did  not  finish  even  to  herself  the  question 
which  rose  up  to  worry  her.  It  came  back  every 
time  she  recalled  the  little  scene. 

On  the  morning  after  her  visit  to  the  Gray  Inn 
she  climbed  up  on  the  piano  stool  when  she  had  fin- 
ished practising  her  scales.  She  wanted  a  closer 
view  of  the  portrait  which  hung  over  it.  It  was  an 
oil  painting  of  her  father  at  the  age  of  five.  He 
wore  kilts  and  little  socks  with  plaid  tops,  and  he 
carried  a  white  rabbit  in  his  arms.  Georgina  knew 
every  inch  of  the  canvas,  having  admired  it  from  the 
time  she  was  first  held  up  to  it  in  someone's  arms  to 
"see  the  pretty  bunny."  Now  she  looked  at  it  long 
and  searchingly. 

Then  she  opened  the  book-case  and  took  out  an 
old  photograph  album.  There  were  several  pictures 
of  her  father  in  that.  One  taken  with  his  High 
School  class,  and  one  with  a  group  of  young  medical 
students,  and  one  in  the  white  service  dress  of  an 
assistant  surgeon  of  the  navy.  None  of  them  cor- 
responded with  her  dim  memory  of  him. 

Then  she  went  upstairs  to  Barby's  room,  and  stood 
before  the  bureau,  studying  the  picture  upon  it  in 
a  large  silver  frame.  It  was  taken  in  a  standing 


A  Letter  to  Hong-Kong  279 

position  and  had  been  carefully  colored,  so  that  she 
knew  accurately  every  detail  of  the  dress  uniform 
of  a  naval  surgeon  from  the  stripes  of  gold  lace  and 
maroon  velvet  on  the  sleeves,  to  the  eagle  on  the  belt 
buckle  and  the  sword  knot  dangling  over  the  scab- 
bard. There  were  various  medals  pinned  on  his 
breast  which  had  always  interested  her. 

But  this  morning  it  was  not  the  uniform  or  the 
decorations  which  claimed  her  attention.  It  was  the 
face  itself.  She  was  looking  for  something  in  the 
depths  of  those  serious  dark  eyes,  that  she  had  seen 
in  Captain  Burrell's  when  he  looked  at  Peggy;  some- 
thing more  than  a  smile,  something  that  made  his 
whole  face  light  up  till  you  felt  warm  and  happy  just 
to  look  at  him.  She  wondered  if  the  closely-set 
lips  she  was  studying  could  curve  into  a  welcoming 
smile  if  anybody  ran  to  meet  him  with  happy  out- 
stretched arms.  But  the  picture  was  baffling  and  dis- 
appointing, because  it  was  a  profile  view. 

Presently,  she  picked  it  up  and  carried  it  to  her 
own  room,  placing  it  on  the  table  where  she  always 
sat  to  write.  She  had  screwed  up  her  courage  at 
last,  to  the  point  of  writing  the  letter  which  long 
ago  she  had  decided  ought  to  be  written  by  some- 
body. 

Once  Barby  said,  "When  you  can't  think  of  any- 
thing to  put  in  a  letter,  look  at  the  person's  picture, 
and  pretend  you're  talking  to  it."  Georgina  fol- 
lowed that  advice  now.  But  one  cannot  talk  en- 


280         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

thusiastically  to  a  listener  who  continues  to  show 
you  only  his  profile. 

Suddenly,  her  resentment  flamed  hot  against  this 
handsome,  averted  face  which  was  all  she  knew  of  a 
father.  She  thought  bitterly  that  he  had  no  busi- 
ness to  be  such  a  stranger  to  her  that  she  didn't  even 
know  what  he  looked  like  when  he  smiled.  Some- 
thing of  the  sternness  of  her  old  Pilgrim  forbears 
crept  into  her  soul  as  she  sat  there  judging  him  and 
biting  the  end  of  her  pen.  She  glanced  down  at 
the  sheet  of  paper  on  which  she  had  painstakingly 
written  "Dear  Father."  Then  she  scratched  out 
the  words,  feeling  she  could  not  honestly  call  him 
that  when  he  was  such  a  stranger.  Taking  a  clean 
sheet  of  paper,  she  wrote  even  more  painstakingly: 

"Dear  Sir:  There  are  two  reesons " 

Then  she  looked  up  in  doubt  about  the  spelling 
of  that  last  word.  She  might  have  gone  downstairs 
and  consulted  the  dictionary  but  her  experience  had 
proved  that  a  dictionary  is  an  unsatisfactory  book 
when  one  does  not  know  how  to  spell  a  word.  It  is 
by  mere  chance  that  what  one  is  looking  for  can  be 
found.  After  thinking  a  moment  she  put  her  head 
out  of  the  window  and  called  softly  down  to  Belle, 
who  was  sewing  on  the  side  porch.  She  called  softly 
so  that  Tippy  could  not  hear  and  answer  and  maybe 
add  the  remark,  "But  why  do  you  ask?  Are  you 
writing  to  your  mother?" 

Belle  spelled  the  word  for  her,  and  taking  another 


A  Letter  to  Hong-Kong  281 

sheet  of  paper  Georgina  made  a  fresh  start.'  This 
time  she  did  not  hesitate  over  the  spelling,  but  scrib- 
bled recklessly  on  until  all  that  was  crowding  up 
to  be  said  was  on  the  paper. 

"Dear  Sir:  There  are  two  reasons  for  writing 
this.  One  is  about  your  wife.  Cousin  Mehitable 
says  something  is  eating  her  heart  out,  and  I  thought 
you  ought  to  know.  Maybe  as  you  can  cure  so  many 
strange  diseeses  you  can  do  something  for  her.  The 
other  is  to  ask  you  to  send  us  another  picture  of 
yourself.  The  only  ones  we  have  of  you  are  look- 
ing off  sideways,  and  I  can't  feel  as  well  acquainted 
with  you  as  if  I  could  look  into  your  eyes. 

"There  is  a  lovely  father  staying  at  the  Gray  Inn. 
He  is  Peggy  Burrell's.  He  is  a  naval  officer,  too. 
It  makes  me  feel  like  an  orfan  when  1  see  him  going 
down  the  street  holding  her  hand.  He  asked  me  to 
tell  him  all  about  where  you  are  and  what  you  are 
doing,  because  you  cured  him  once  on  a  hospital 
ship,  and  I  was  ashamed  to  tell  him  that  I  didn't 
know  because  Barby  has  not  had  a  letter  from  you 
for  over  four  months.  Please  don't  let  on  to  her 
that  I  wrote  this.  She  doesn't  know  that  I  was 
under  the  bed  when  Cousin  Mehitable  was  talking 
about  you,  and  saying  that  everybody  thinks  it  is 
queer  you  never  come  home.  If  you  can  do  only 
one  of  the  things  I  asked,  please  do  the  first  one. 
Yours  truly,  Georgina  Huntingdon." 

Having  blotted  the  letter,  Georgina  read  it  over 


282         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

carefully,  finding  two  words  thai:  did  not  look  quite 
right,  although  she  did  not  know  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  them.  So  she  called  softly  out  of  the  win- 
dow again  to  Belle: 

"How  do  you  spell  diseases?" 

Belle  told  her  but  added  the  question,  "Why  do 
you  ask  a  word  like  that?  Whose  diseases  can  you 
be  writing  about?" 

Georgina  drew  in  her  head  without  answering. 
She  could  not  seek  help  in  that  quarter  again,  espe- 
cially for  such  a  word  as  "orfan."  After  studying 
over  it  a  moment  she  remembered  there  was  a  poem 
in  "Songs  for  the  Little  Ones  at  Home,"  called  "The 
Orphan  Nosegay  Girl." 

A  trip  downstairs  for  the  tattered  volume  gave 
her  the  word  she  wanted,  and  soon  the  misspelled 
one  was  scratched  out  and  rewritten.  There  were 
now  three  unsightly  blots  on  the  letter  and  she  hov- 
ered over  them  a  moment,  her  pride  demanding  that 
she  should  make  a  clean,  fair  copy.  But  it  seemed 
such  an  endless  task  to  rewrite  it  from  beginning  to 
end,  that  she  finally  decided  to  send  it  as  it  stood. 

Addressed,  stamped  and  sealed,  it  was  ready  at 
last  and  she  dropped  it  into  the  mail-box.  Then 
she  had  a  moment  of  panic.  It  was  actually  started 
on  its  way  to  Hong-Kong  and  nothing  in  her  power 
could  stop  it  or  bring  it  back.  She  wondered  if  she 
hadn't  done  exactly  the  wrong  thing,  and  made  a 
bad  matter  worse. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

PEGGY   JOINS   THE   RAINBOW-MAKERS 


one  more  thing  happened  before  Barby's 
return  that  is  worth  recording.  Georgina  went 
to  spend  the  way  at  the  Gray  Inn.  Captain  Burrell, 
himself,  came  to  ask  her.  Peggy  had  to  be  put  back 
into  her  brace  again  he  said.  He  was  afraid  it  had 
been  taken  off  too  soon.  She  was  very  uncomfort- 
able and  unhappy  on  account  of  it.  They  would  be 
leaving  in  the  morning,  much  earlier  than  they  had 
intended,  because  it  was  necessary  for  her  physician 
to  see  her  at  once,  and  quite  probable  that  she  would 
have  to  go  back  to  the  sanitarium  for  a  while.  She 
didn't  want  to  leave  Provincetown,  because  she  did 
not  want  to  go  away  from  Georgina. 

"You  have  no  idea  how  she  admires  you,"  the 
Captain  added,  "or  how  she  tries  to  copy  you.  Her 
dream  of  perfect  happiness  is  to  look  and  act  just 
like  you.  Yesterday  she  made  her  mother  tie  a  big 
pink  bow  on  her  poor  little  cropped  head  because 
you  passed  by  wearing  one  on  your  curls.  You  can 
cheer  her  up  more  than  anyone  else  in  the  world." 

So  Georgina,  touched  both  by  the  Captain's  evi- 
dent distress  over  Peggy's  returning  lameness,  and 

283 


284         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

Peggy's  fondness  for  her,  went  gladly.  The  knowl- 
edge that  everything  she  said  and  did  was  admired, 
made  it  easy  for  her  to  entertain  the  child,  and  the 
pity  that  welled  up  in  her  heart  every  time  she 
watched  the  thin  little  body  move  around  in  the  tire- 
some brace,  made  her  long  to  do  something  that 
would  really  ease  the  burden  of  such  a  misfortune. 

Mrs.  Burrell  was  busy  packing  all  morning,  and 
in  the  afternoon  went  down  the  street  to  do  some 
shopping  that  their  hurried  departure  made  neces- 
sary. Peggy  brought  out  her  post-card  album,  in 
which  to  fasten  all  the  postals  she  had  added  to  her 
collection  while  on  the  Cape.  Among  them  was  one 
of  the  Figurehead  House,  showing  "Hope"  perched 
over  the  portico. 

"Bailey  says  that's  a  sea-cook,"  Peggy  explained 
gravely.  "A  sea-cook  who  was  such  a  wooden-head 
that  when  he  made  doughnuts  they  turned  green. 
He's  got  one  in  his  hand  that  he's  about  to  heave 
into  the  sea." 

"Oh,  horrors!  No!"  exclaimed  Georgina,  as  scan- 
dalized as  if  some  false  report  had  been  circulated 
about  one  of  her  family. 

"That  is  Hope  with  a  wreath  in  her  hand,  look- 
ing up  with  her  head  held  high,  just  as  she  did  when 
she  was  on  the  prow  of  a  gallant  ship.  Whenever 
I  have  any  trouble  or  disappointment  I  think  of  her, 
and  she  helps  me  to  bear  up  and  be  brave,  and  go 
on  as  if  nothing  had  happened." 


Peggy  Joins  the  Rainbow-Makers    285 

"How?"  asked  Peggy,  gazing  with  wondering 
eyes  at  the  picture  of  the  figurehead,  which  was  too 
small  on  the  postal  to  be  very  distinct.  Anything 
that  Georgina  respected  and  admired  so  deeply, 
Peggy  wanted  to  respect  and  admire  in  the  same 
way,  but  it  was  puzzling  to  understand  just  what  it 
was  that  Georgina  saw  in  that  wooden  figure  to  make 
her  feel  so.  Accustomed  to  thinking  of  it  in  Bailey's 
way,  as  a  sea-cook  with  a  doughnut,  it  was  hard  to 
switch  around  to  a  point  of  view  that  showed  it  as 
Hope  with  a  wreath,  or  to  understand  how  it  could 
help  one  to  be  brave  about  anything. 

Something  of  her  bewildermen^  crept  into  the 
wondering  "why,"  and  Georgina  hesitated,  a  bit  puz- 
zled herself.  It  was  hard  to  explain  to  a  child  two 
years  younger  what  had  been  taught  to  her  by  the 
old  Towncrier. 

"You  wait  till  I  run  home  and  get  my  prism," 
she  answered.  "Then  I  can  show  you  right  away, 
and  we  can  play  a  new  kind  of  tag  game  with  it." 

Before  Peggy  could  protest  that  she  would  rather 
have  her  question  unanswered  than  be  left  alone, 
Georgina  was  off  and  running  up  the  beach  as  fast 
as  her  little  white  shoes  could  carry  her.  Her  cheeks 
were  as  red  as  the  coral  necklace  she  wore,  when  she 
came  back  breathless  from  her  flying  trip. 

There  followed  a  few  moments  of  rapture  for 
Peggy,  when  the  beautiful  crystal  pendant  was  placed 
in  her  own  hands,  and  she  looked  through  it  into  a 


286         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

world  transformed  by  the  magic  of  its  coloring. 
She  saw  the  room  changed  in  a  twinkling,  as  when 
a  fairy  wand  transforms  a  mantle  of  homespun  to 
cloth-of-gold.  Through  the  open  window  she  saw 
an  enchanted  harbor  filled  with  a  fleet  of  rainbows. 
Every  sail  was  outlined  with  one,  every  mast  edged 
with  lines  of  red  and  gold  and  blue.  And  while  she 
looked,  and  at  the  same  time  listened,  Georgina's 
explanation  caught  some  of  the  same  glamor,  and 
sank  deep  into  her  tender  little  heart. 

That  was  the  way  that  she  could  change  the  world 
for  people  she  loved — put  a  rainbow  around  their 
troubles  by  being  so  cheery  and  hopeful  that  every- 
thing would  be  brighter  just  because  she  was  there. 
To  keep  Hope  at  the  prow  simply  meant  that  she 
mustn't  get  discouraged  about  her  knee.  No  mat- 
ter how  much  it  hurt  her  or  the  brace  bothered  her, 
she  must  bear  up  and  steer  right  on.  To  do  that 
bravely,  without  any  fretting,  was  the  surest  way  in 
the  world  to  put  a  rainbow  around  her  father's 
troubles. 

Thus  Georgina  mixed  her  "line  to  live  by"  and  her 
prism  philosophy,  but  it  was  clear  enough  to  the 
child  who  listened  with  heart  as  well  as  ears.  And 
clear  enough  to  the  man  who  sat  just  outside  the 
open  window  on  the  upper  porch,  with  his  pipe,  lis- 
tening also  as  he  gazed  off  to  sea. 

"The  poor  little  lamb,"  he  said  to  himself.    "To 


Peggy  Joins  the  Rainbow-Makers   287 

think  of  that  baby  trying  to  bear  up  and  be  brave  on 
my  account!  It  breaks  me  all  up." 

A  few  minutes  later  as  he  started  across  the  hall, 
Peggy,  seeing  him  pass  her  door,  called  to  him. 

"Oh,  Daddy!  Come  look  through  this  wonder- 
ful fairy  glass.  You'll  think  the  whole  world  is  be- 
witched." 

She  was  lying  back  in  a  long  steamer  chair,  and  im- 
patient to  reach  him,  she  started  to  climb  out  as  he 
entered  the  room.  But  she  had  not  grown  accus- 
tomed to  the  brace  again,  and  she  stumbled  clumsily 
on  account  of  it.  He  caught  her  just  in  time  to  save 
her  from  falling,  but  the  prism,  the  shining  crystal 
pendant,  dropped  from  her  hands  and  struck  the 
rocker  of  a  chair  in  its  fall  to  the  floor. 

She  gave  a  frightened  cry,  and  stood  holding  her 
breath  while  Georgina  stooped  and  picked  it  up. 
It  was  in  two  pieces  now.  The  long,  radiant  point, 
cut  in  many  facets  like  a  diamond,  was  broken  off. 

Georgina,  pale  and  trembling  at  this  sudden  de- 
struction of  her  greatest  treasure,  turned  her  back, 
and  for  one  horrible  moment  it  was  all  she  could  do 
to  keep  from  bursting  out  crying.  Peggy,  seeing  her 
turn  away  and  realizing  all  that  her  awkwardness 
was  costing  Georgina,  buried  her  face  on  her  father's 
shoulder  and  went  into  such  a  wild  paroxysm  of  sob- 
bing and  crying  that  all  his  comforting  failed  to  com- 
fort her. 


288        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Oh,  I  wish  I'd  died  first,"  she  wailed.  "She'll 
never  love  me  again.  She  said  it  was  her  most  pre- 
cious treasure,  and  now  I've  broken  it " 

"There,  there,  there,"  soothed  the  Captain,  pat- 
ting the  thin  little  arm  reached  up  to  cling  around 
his  neck.  "Georgina  knows  it  was  an  accident.  She's 
going  to  forgive  my  poor  little  Peggykins  for  what 
she  couldn't  help.  She  doesn't  mind  its  being  broken 
as  much  as  you  think." 

He  looked  across  at  Georgina,  appealingly,  help- 
lessly. Peggy's  grief  was  so  uncontrollable  he  was 
growing  alarmed.  Georgina  wanted  to  cry  out : 

"Oh,  I  do  mind!  How  can  you  say  that?  I  can't 
stand  it  to  have  my  beautiful,  beautiful  prism 
ruined!" 

She  was  only  a  little  girl  herself,  with  no  comfort- 
ing shoulder  to  run  to.  But  something  came  to  her 
help  just  then.  She  remembered  the  old  silver  por- 
ringer with  its  tall,  slim-looped  letters.  She  remem- 
bered there  were  some  things  she  could  not  do.  She 
had  to  be  brave  now,  because  her  name  had  been 
written  around  that  shining  rim  through  so  many 
brave  generations.  She  could  not  deepen  the  hurt  of 
this  poor  little  thing  already  nearly  frantic  over  what 
she  had  done.  Tippy's  early  lessons  carried  her 
gallantly  through  now.  She  ran  across  the  room  to 
where  Peggy  sat  on  her  father's  knee,  and  put  an 
arm  around  her. 

"Listen,  Peggy,"  she  said  brightly.     "There's  a 


Peggy  Joins  the  Rainbow-Makers    289 

piece  of  prism  for  each  of  us  now.  Isn't  that  nice? 
You  take  one  and  I'll  keep  the  other,  and  that  will 
make  you  a  member  of  our  club.  We  call  it  the 
Rainbow  Club,  and  we're  running  a  race  seeing  who 
can  make  the  most  bright  spots  in  the  world,  by  mak- 
ing people  happy.  There's  just  four  -members  in  it 
so  far;  Richard  and  me  and  the  president  of  the 
bank  and  Mr.  Locke,  the  artist,  who  made  the  pic- 
tures in  your  blue  and  gold  fairy-tale  book.  And 
you  can  be  the  fifth.  But  you'll  have  to  begin  this 
minute  by  stopping  your  crying,  or  you  can't  belong. 
What  did  I  tell  you  about  fretting?" 

And  Peggy  stopped.  Not  instantly,  she  couldn't 
do  that  after  such  a  hard  spell.  The  big  sobs  kept 
jerking  her  for  a  few  minutes  no  matter  how  hard 
she  tried  to  stiffle  them;  but  she  sat  up  and  let  her 
father  wipe  her  face  on  his  big  handkerchief,  and 
she  smiled  her  bravest,  to  show  that  she  was  worthy 
of  membership  in  the  new  club. 

The  Captain  suddenly  drew  Georgina  to  his  other 
knee  and  kissed  her. 

"You  blessed  little  rainbow  maker !"  he  exclaimed. 
"I'd  like  to  join  your  club  myself.  What  a  happy 
world  this  would  be  if  everybody  belonged  to  it." 

Peggy  clasped  her  hands  together  beseechingly. 

"Oh,  please  let  him  belong,  Georgina.  I'll  lend 
him  my  piece  of  prism  half  the  time." 

"Of  course  he  can,"  consented  Georgina.  "But  he 
can  belong  without  having  a  prism.  Grown  people 


290         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

don't  need  anything  to  help  them  remember  about 
making  good  times  in  the  world." 

"I  wonder,"  said  the  Captain,  as  if  he  were  talk- 
ing to  himself.  Georgina,  looking  at  him  shyly  from 
the  corner  of  her  eye,  wondered  what  it  was  he  won- 
dered. 

It  was  almost  supper  time  when  she  went  home. 
She  had  kept  the  upper  half  of  the  prism  which  had 
the  hole  in  it,  and  it  dangled  from  her  neck  on  the 
pink  ribbon  as  she  walked. 

"If  only  Barby  could  have  seen  it  first,"  she 
mourned.  "I  wouldn't  mind  it  so  much.  But  she'll 
never  know  how  beautiful  it  was." 

But  every  time  that  thought  came  to  her  it  was 
followed  by  a  recollection  which  made  her  tingle 
with  happiness.  It  was  the  Captain's  deep  voice  say- 
ing tenderly,  "You  blessed  little  rainbow-maker!" 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

A    MODERN    "ST.    GEORGE    AND   THE   DRAGON" 

T>  ARBY  was  at  home  again.  Georgina,  hearing 
•*-*  the  jangle  of  a  bell,  ran  down  the  street  to  meet 
the  old  Towncrier  with  the  news.  She  knew  now, 
how  he  felt  when  he  wanted  to  go  through  the  town 
ringing  his  bell  and  calling  out  the  good  tidings 
about  his  Danny  to  all  the  world.  That's  the  way 
she  felt  her  mother's  home-coming  ought  to  be  pro- 
claimed. It  was  such  a  joyful  thing  to  have  her  back 
again. 

And  Grandfather  Shirley  wasn't  going  to  be  blind, 
Georgina  confided  in  her  next  breath.  The  sight  of 
both  eyes  would  be  all  right  in  time.  They  were  so 
thankful  about  that.  And  Barby  had  brought  her 
the  darlingest  little  pink  silk  parasol  ever  made  or 
dreamed  of,  all  the  way  from  Louisville,  and  some 
beaten  biscuit  and  a  comb  of  honey  from  the  bee- 
hives in  her  old  home  garden. 

It  was  wonderful  how  much  news  Georgina  man- 
aged to  crowd  into  the  short  time  that  it  took  to 
walk  back  to  the  gate.  The  Burrells  had  left  town 
and  Belle  had  gone  home,  and  Richard  had  sent  her 
a  postal  card  from  Bar  Harbor  with  a  snapshot  of 
himself  and  Captain  Kidd  on  it.  And — she  low- 

291 


292         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

ered  her  voice  almost  to  a  whisper  as  she  told  the 
next  item: 

"Barby  knows  a'lout  Danny!  Belle  said  I  might 
tell  her  if  she'd  promise  not  to  let  it  get  back  to  Mr. 
Potter." 

They  had  reached  the  house  by  this  time,  and 
Georgina  led  him  in  to  Barby  who  rose  to  welcome 
him  with  both  hands  outstretched. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Darcy,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  know — 
and  I'm  so  glad.  And  Justin  will  be,  too.  I  sent 
Georgina's  letter  to  him  the  very  day  it  came.  I 
knew  he'd  be  so  interested,  and  it  can  do  no  harm 
for  him  to  know,  away  off  there  in  the  interior  of 
China." 

Georgina  was  startled,  remembering  the  letter 
which  she  had  sent  to  the  interior  of  China.  Surely 
her  father  wouldn't  send  that  back  to  Barby !  Such 
a  panic  seized  her  at  the  bare  possibility  of  such  a 
thing,  that  she  did  not  hear  Uncle  Darcy's  reply. 
She  wondered  what  Barby  would  say  if  it  should 
come  back  to  her.  Then  she  recalled  what  had  hap- 
pened the  first  few  moments  of  Barby's  return  and 
wondered  what  made  her  think  of  it. 

Barby's  first  act  on  coming  into  the  house,  was 
to  walk  over  to  the  old  secretary  where  the  mail 
was  always  laid,  and  look  to  see  if  any  letters  were 
waiting  there  for  her.  And  that  was  before  she 
had  even  stopped  to  take  off  her  veil  or  gloves. 
There  were  three  which  had  arrived  that  morning, 


A  Modern  "St.  George  and  the  Dragon"  293 

but  she  only  glanced  at  them  and  tossed  them  aside. 
The  one  she  wanted  wasn't  there.  Georgina  had 
turned  away  and  pretended  that  she  wasn't  watch- 
ing, but  she  was,  and  for  a  moment  she  felt  that 
the  sun  had  gone  behind  a  cloud,  Barby  looked 
so  disappointed. 

But  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  for  Barby  im- 
mediately began  to  tell  about  an  amusing  experience 
she  had  had  on  her  way  home,  and  started  upstairs 
to  take  off  her  hat,  with  Georgina  tagging  after  to 
ask  a  thousand  questions,  just  as  she  had  been  tag- 
ging ever  since. 

And  later  she  had  thrown  her  arms  around  her 
mother,  exclaiming  as  she  held  her  fast,  "You  haven't 
changed  a  single  bit,  Barby,"  and  Barby  answered 
gaily: 

"What  did  you  expect,  dearest,  in  a  few  short 
weeks?  White  hair  and  spectacles?" 

"But  it  doesn't  seem  like  a  few  short  weeks," 
sighed  Georgina.  "It  seems  as  if  years  full  of  things 
had  happened,  and  that  I'm  as  old  as  you  are.1' 

Now  as  Uncle  Darcy  recounted  some  of  these 
happenings,  and  Barby  realized  how  many  strange 
experiences  Georgina  had  lived  through  during  her 
absence,  how  many  new  acquaintances  she  had  made 
and  how  much  she  had  been  allowed  to  go  about 
by  herself,  she  understood  why  the  child  felt  so 
much  older.  She  understood  still  better  that  night 
as  she  sat  brushing  Georgina's  curls.  The  little  girl 


294        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

on  the  footstool  at  her  knee  was  beginning  to  reach 
up — was  beginning  to  ask  questions  about  the  strange 
grown-up  world  whose  sayings  and  doings  are  al- 
ways so  puzzling  to  little  heads. 

"Barby,"  she  asked  hesitatingly,  "what  do  peo- 
ple mean  exactly,  when  they  say  they  have  other 
fish  to  fry?" 

"Oh,  just  other  business  to  attend  to  or  something 
else  they'd  rather  do." 

"But  when  they  shrug  their  shoulders  at  the  same 
time,"  persisted  Georgina. 

"A  shrug  can  stand  for  almost  anything,"  an- 
swered Barby.  "Sometimes  it  says  meaner  things 
than  words  can  convey." 

Then  came  the  inevitable  question  which  made 
Georgina  wish  that  she  had  not  spoken. 

"But  why  do  you  ask,  dear?  Tell  me  how  the  ex- 
pression was  used,  and  I  can  explain  better." 

Now  Georgina  could  not  understand  why  she  had 
brought  up  the  subject.  It  had  been  uppermost  in 
her  mind  all  evening,  but  every  time  it  reached  the 
tip  of  her  tongue  she  drove  it  back.  That  is,  until 
this  last  time.  Then  it  seemed  to  say  itself.  Having 
gone  this  far  she  could  not  lightly  change  the  sub- 
ject as  an  older  person  might  have  done.  Barby 
was  waiting  for  an  answer.  It  came  in  a  moment, 
halting  but  truthful. 

"That  day  I  was  at  the  Bazaar,  you  know,  and 
everybody  was  saying  how  nice  I  looked,  dressed 


A  Modern  "St.  George  and  the  Dragon"  295 

up  like  a  little  girl  of  long  ago,  I  heard  Mrs.  Whit- 
man say  to  Miss  Minnis  that  one  would  think  that 
Justin  Huntingdon  would  want  to  come  home  once 
or  twice  in  a  lifetime  to  see  me;  and  Miss  Minnis 
shrugged  her  shoulders,  this  way,  and  said: 

"  'Oh,  he  has  other  fish  to  fry.'  " 

Georgina,  with  her  usual  aptitude  for  mimicry, 
made  the  shrug  so  eloquent  that  Barby  understood 
exactly  what  Miss  Minnis  intended  to  convey,  and 
what  it  had  meant  to  the  wondering  child. 

"Miss  Minnis  is  an  old  catl"  she  exclaimed  im- 
patiently. Then  she  laid  down  the  brush,  and  gath- 
ering Georgina's  curls  into  one  'hand,  turned  her 
head  so  that  she  could  look  into  the  troubled  little 
face. 

"Tell  me,  Baby,"  she  demanded.  "Have  you 
heard  anyone  else  say  things  like  that?" 

"Yes,"  admitted  Georgina,  "several  times.  And 
yesterday  a  woman  who  came  into  the  bakery  while 
I  was  getting  the  rolls  Tippy  sent  me  for,  asked  me 
if  I  was  Doctor  Huntingdon's  little  girl.  And  when 
I  said  yes,  she  asked  me  when  he  was  coming  home." 

"And  what  did  you  say?" 

"Well,  I  thought  she  hadn't  any  right  to  ask,  spe- 
cially in  the  way  she  made  her  question  sound.  She 
doesn't  belong  in  this  town,  anyhow.  She's  only  one 
of  the  summer  boarders.  So  I  drew  myself  up  the 
way  the  Duchess  always  did  in  The  Fortunes  of 
Romney  Tower.'  Don't  you  remember?  and  I 


296         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

said,  'It  will  probably  be  some  time,  Madam.'  Then 
I  took  up  my  bag  of  hot  rolls  and  marched  out.  I 
think  that  word  Madam  always  sounds  so  freezing, 
when  you  say  it  the  way  the  Duchess  was  always  do- 
ing." 

"Oh,  you  ridiculous  baby!"  exclaimed  Barby, 
clasping  her  close  and  kissing  her  again  and  again. 
Then  seeing  the  trouble  still  lingering  in  the  big 
brown  eyes,  she  took  the  little  face  between  her  hands 
and  looked  into  it  long  and  intently,  as  if  reading 
her  thoughts. 

"Georgina,"  she  said  presently,  UI  understand 
now,  what  is  the  matter.  You're  wondering  the  same 
thing  about  your  father  that  these  busybodies  are. 
It's  my  fault  though.  I  took  it  for  granted  that 
you  understood  about  his  long  absence.  I  never 
dreamed  that  it  was  hurting  you  in  any  way." 

Georgina  hid  her  face  in  Barby's  lap,  her  silence 
proof  enough  that  her  mother  had  guessed  aright. 
For  a  moment  or  two  Barby's  hand  strayed  caress- 
ingly over  the  bowed  head.  Then  she  said : 

"I  wonder  if  you  remember  this  old  story  I  used 
to  tell  you,  beginning,  'St.  George  of  Merry  Eng- 
land was  the  youngest  and  the  bravest  of  the  seven 
champions  of  Christendom.  Clad  in  bright  armor 
with  his  magic  sword  Ascalon  by  his  side,  he  used 
to  travel  on  his  war  horse  in  far  countries  in  search 
of  adventure.'  Do  you  remember  that?" 

Georgina  nodded  yes  without  raising  her  head. 


A  Modern  "St.  George  and  the  Dragon"  297 

"Then  you  remember  he  came  to  a  beach  where 
the  Princess  Saba  called  to  him  to  flee,  because  the 
Dragon,  the  most  terrible  monster  ever  seen  on 
earth,  was  about  to  come  up  out  of  the  sea  and  de- 
stroy the  city.  Every  year  it  came  up  to  do  this, 
and  only  the  sacrifice  of  a  beautiful  maiden  could 
stop  it  from  destroying  the  people. 

"But  undismayed,  Saint  George  refused  to  flee. 
He  stayed  on  and  fought  the  dragon,  and  wounded 
it,  and  bound  it  with  the  maiden's  sash  and  led  it 
into  the  market  place  where  it  was  finally  killed. 
And  the  people  were  forever  freed  from  the  terrible 
monster  because  of  his  prowess.  Do  you  remember 
all  that?" 

Again  Georgina  nodded.  She  knew  the  story  well. 
Every  Christmas  as  far  back  as  she  could  remem- 
ber she  had  eaten  her  bit  of  plum  pudding  from  a 
certain  rare  old  blue  plate,  on  which  was  the  pic- 
ture of  Saint  George,  the  dragon  and  the  Princess. 

"Nowadays,"  Barby  went  on,  "because  men  do  not 
ride  around  'clad  in  bright  armor,'  doing  knightly 
deeds,  people  do  not  recognize  them  as  knights.  But 
your  father  is  doing  something  that  is  just  as  great 
and  just  as  brave  as  any  of  the  deeds  of  any  knight 
who  ever  drew  a  sword.  Over  in  foreign  ports 
where  he  has  been  stationed,  is  a  strange  disease 
which  seems  to  rise  out  of  the  marshes  every  year, 
just  as  the  dragon  did,  and  threaten  the  health  and 
the  lives  of  the  people.  It  is  especially  bad  on  ship- 


298         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

board,  and  it  is  really  harder  to  fight  than  a  real 
dragon  would  be,  because  it  is  an  invisible  foe,  a 
sickness  that  comes  because  of  a  tiny,  unseen  mi- 
crobe. 

"Your  father  has  watched  it,  year  after  year,  at- 
tacking not  only  the  sailors  of  foreign  navies  but 
our  own  men,  when  they  have  to  live  in  those  ports, 
and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  on  a  quest  for  this 
invisible  monster,  and  kill  it  if  possible.  It  is  such 
a  very  important  quest  that  the  Government  was 
glad  to  grant  him  a  year's  leave  of  absence  from  the 
service. 

"He  was  about  to  come  home  to  see  us  first,  when 
he  met  an  old  friend,  a  very  wealthy  Englishman, 
who  has  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life  collecting 
rare  plants  and  studying  their  habits.  He  has  writ- 
ten several  valuable  books  on  Botany,  and  the  last 
ten  years  he  has  been  especially  interested  in  the 
plants  of  China.  He  was  getting  ready  to  go  to  the 
very  places  that  your  father  was  planning  to  visit, 
and  he  had  with  him  an  interpreter  and  a  young 
American  assistant.  When  he  invited  your  father  to 
join  him  it  was  an  opportunity  too  great  to  be  re- 
fused. This  Mr.  Bowles  is  familiar  with  the  coun- 
try and  the  people,  even  speaks  the  language  him- 
self a  little.  He  had  letters  to  many  of  the  high 
officials,  and  could  be  of  the  greatest  assistance  to 
your  father  in  many  ways,  even  though  he  did  not 
stay  with  the  party.  He  could  always  be  in  com- 
munication with  it. 


A  Modern  "St.  George  and  the  Dragon"  299 

"So,  of  course,  he  accepted  the  invitation.  It  is 
far  better  for  the  quest  and  far  better  for  himself 
to  be  with  such  companions. 

"I  am  not  uneasy  about  him,  knowing  he  has 
friends  within  call  in  case  of  sickness  and  accident, 
and  he  will  probably  be  able  to  accomplish  his  pur- 
pose more  quickly  with  the  help  they  will  be  able  to 
give.  You  know  he  has  to  go  off  into  all  sorts  of 
dirty,  uncomfortable  places,  risk  his  own  health  and 
safety,  go  among  the  sick  and  suffering  where  he 
can  watch  the  progress  of  the  disease  under  different 
conditions. 

"The  whole  year  may  be  spent  in  a  vain  search, 
with  nothing  to  show  for  it  at  the  end,  and  even  if 
he  is  successful  and  finds  the  cause  of  this  strange  ill- 
ness and  a  remedy,  his  only  reward  will  be  the  sat- 
isfaction of  knowing  he  has  done  something  to  re- 
lieve the  suffering  of  his  fellow-creatures.  People 
can  understand  the  kind  of  bravery  that  shows.  If 
he  were  rescuing  one  person  from  a  burning  house 
or  a  sinking  boat  they  would  cry  out,  'What  a  hero.' 
But  they  don't  seem  to  appreciate  this  kind  of  res- 
cue work.  It  will  do  a  thousand  times  more  good, 
because  it  will  free  the  whole  navy  from  the  teeth 
of  the  dragon. 

"If  there  were  a  war,  people  would  not  expect  him 
to  come  home.  We  are  giving  him  up  to  his  country 
now,  just  as  truly  as  if  he  were  in  the  midst  of  battle. 
A  soldier's  wife  and  a  soldier's  daughter — it  is  the 
proof  of  our  love  and  loyalty,  Georgina,  to  bear  his 


300         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

long  absence  cheerfully,  no  matter  how  hard  that  is 
to  do;  to  be  proud  that  he  can  serve  his  country  if 
not  with  his  sword,  with  the  purpose  and  prowess  of 
a  Saint  George." 

Barby's  eyes  were  wet  but  there  was  a  starry  light 
in  them,  as  she  lifted  Georgina's  head  and  kissed  her. 
Two  little  arms  were  thrown  impulsively  around  her 
neck. 

"Oh,  Barby !  I'm  so  sorry  that  I  didn't  know  all 
that  before !  I  didn't  understand,  and  I  felt  real 
ugly  about  it  when  I  heard  people  whispering  and 
saying  things  as  if  he  didn't  love  us  any  more.  And 
— when  I  said  my  prayers  at  bedtime — I  didn't  sing 
'Eternal  Father  Strong  to  Save'  a  single  night  while 
you  were  gone." 

Comforting  arms  held  her  close. 

"Why  didn't  you  write  and  tell  mother  about  it?" 

"I  didn't  want  to  make  you  feel  bad.  I  was  afraid 
from  what  Cousin  Mehitable  said  you  were  going 
to  die.  I  worried  and  worried  over  it.  Oh,  I  had 
the  miserablest  time!" 

Another  kiss  interrupted  her.  "But  you'll  never 
do  that  way  again,  Georgina.  Promise  me  that  no 
matter  what  happens  you'll  come  straight  to  me 
and  have  it  set  right." 

The  promise  was  given,  with  what  remorse  and 
penitence  no  one  could  know  but  Georgina,  recalling 
the  letter  she  had  written,  beginning  with  a  stern 
"Dear  Sir."  But  to  justify  herself,  she  asked  after 
the  hair-brushing  had  begun  again: 


A  Modern  "St.  George  and  the  Dragon"  301 

"But  Barby,  why  has  he  stayed  away  from  home 
four  whole  years?  He  wasn't  hunting  dragons  be- 
fore this,  was  he?" 

"No,  but  I  thought  you  understood  that,  too.  He 
didn't  come  back  here  to  the  Cape  because  there  were 
important  things  which  kept  him  in  Washington  dur- 
ing his  furloughs.  Maybe  you  were  too  small  to  re- 
member that  the  time  you  and  I  were  spending  the 
summer  in  Kentucky  he  had  planned  to  join  us  there. 
But  he  wired  that  his  best  friend  in  the  Navy,  an  old 
Admiral,  was  at  the  point  of  death,  and  didn't  want 
him  to  leave  him.  The  Admiral  had  befriended  him 
in  so  many  ways  when  he  first  went  into  the  service 
that  there  was  nothing  else  for  your  father  to  do  but 
stay  with  him  as  long  as  he  was  needed.  You  were 
only  six  then,  and  I  was  afraid  the  long,  hot  trip 
might  make  you  sick,  so  I  left  you  with  mamma  while 
I  went  on  for  several  weeks.  Surely  you  remember 
something  of  that  time." 

"No,  just  being  in  Kentucky  is  all  I  remember, 
and  your  going  away  for  a  while." 

"And  the  next  time  some  business  affairs  of  his 
own  kept  him  in  Washington,  something  very  im- 
portant. You  were  just  getting  over  the  measles 
and  I  didn't  dare  take  you,  so  you  stayed  with  Tippy. 
So  you  see  it  wasn't  your  father's  fault  that  he  didn't 
see  you.  He  had  expected  you  to  be  brought  down 
to  Washington." 

Georgina  pondered  over  the  explanation  a  while, 


302         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

then  presently  said  with  a  sigh,  "Goodness  me,  how 
easy  it  is  to  look  at  things  the  wrong  way." 

Soon  after  her  voice  blended  with  Barby's  in  a 
return  to  the  long  neglected  bedtime  rite : 

"Oh,  hear  us  when  we  cry  to  Thee, 
For  those  in  peril  on  the  sea" 

Afterward,  her  troubles  all  smoothed  and  ex- 
plairted  away,  she  lay  in  the  dark,  comforted  and 
at  peace  with  the  world.  Once  a  little  black  doubt 
thrust  its  head  up  like  a  snake,  to  remind  her  of 
Melindy's  utterance,  "When  a  man  wants  to  write, 
he's  gwine  to  write,  busy  or  no  busy."  But  even 
that  found  an  explanation  in  her  thoughts. 

Of  course,  Melindy  meant  just  ordinary  men. 
Not  those  who  had  great  deeds  to  do  in  the  world 
like  her  father.  Probably  Saint  George  himself 
hadn't  written  to  his  family  often,  if  he  had  a  fam- 
ily. He  couldn't  be  expected  to.  He  had  "other  fish 
to  fry,"  and  it  was  perfectly  right  and  proper  for 
him  to  put  his  mind  on  the  frying  of  them  to  the  neg- 
lect of  everything  else. 

The  four  months'  long  silence  was  unexplained 
save  for  this  comforting  thought,  but  Georgina  wor- 
ried about  it  no  longer.  Up  from  below  came  the 
sound  of  keys  touched  softly  as  Barby  sang  an  old 
lullaby.  She  sang  it  in  a  glad,  trustful  sort  of  way. 


A  Modern  "St.  George  and  the  Dragon"  303 

"He  is  far  across  the  sea, 
But  he's  coming  home  to  me, 
Baby  mine!" 

Lying  there  in  the  dark,  Georgina  composed  an- 
other letter  to  send  after  her  first  one,  and  next 
morning  this  is  what  she  wrote,  sitting  up  in  the 
willow  tree  with  a  magazine  on  her  knees  for  a  writ- 
ing table : 

"Dearest  Father :  I  am  sorry  that  I  wrote  that  last 
letter,  because  everything  is  different  from  what  I 
thought  it  was.  I  did  not  know  until  Barby  came 
home  and  told  me,  that  you  are  just  as  brave  as  St. 
George  was,  clad  in  bright  armor,  when  he  went  to 
rescue  the  people  from  the  dragon.  I  hope  you  get 
the  monster  that  comes  up  out  of  the  sea  every  year 
after  the  poor  sailors.  Barby  says  we  are  giving 
you  to  our  country  in  this  way,  as  much  as  if  there 
was  war,  so  now  I'm  prouder  of  having  a  St- 
George-and-the-dragon-kind  of  a  father  than  one  like 
Peggy  Burrell's,  even  if  she  does  know  him  well 
enough  to  call  him  'Dad-o'-my-heart.'  Even  if  people 
don't  understand,  and  say  things  about  your  never 
coming  home  to  see  us,  we  are  going  to  'still  bear 
up  and  steer  right  onward,'  because  that's  our  line 
to  live  by.  And  we  hope  as  hard  as  we  can  every 
day,  that  you'll  get  the  mike-robe  you  are  in  kwest  of. 
Your  loving  little  daughter,  Georgina  Huntingdon." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

THE  DOCTOR'S  DISCOVERY 

TN  due  time  the  letter  written  in  the  willow  tree 
reached  the  city  of  Hong-Kong,  and  was  carried 
to  the  big  English  hotel,  overlooking  the  loveliest 
of  Chinese  harbors.  But  it  was  not  delivered  to 
Doctor  Huntingdon.  It  was  piled  on  top  of  all  the 
other  mail  which  lay  there,  awaiting  his  return. 
Under  it  was  Georgina's  first  letter  to  him  and  the 
one  she  had  written  to  her  mother  about  Dan  Darcy 
and  the  rifle.  And  under  that  was  the  one  which 
Barbara  called  the  "rainbow  letter,"  and  then  at 
least  half  a  dozen  from  Barbara  herself,  with  the 
beautiful  colored  photograph  of  the  Towncrier  and 
his  lass.  Also  there  were  several  bundles  of  official- 
looking  documents  and  many  American  newspapers. 

Nothing  had  been  forwarded  to  him  for  two 
months,  because  he  had  left  instructions  to  hold  his 
mail  until  further  notice.  The  first  part  of  that  time 
he  was  moving  constantly  from  one  out-of-the-way 
place  to  another  where  postal  delivery  was  slow  and 
uncertain.  The  last  part  of  that  time  he  was  lying 
ill  in  the  grip  of  the  very  disease  which  he  had  gone 
out  to  study  and  to  conquer. 

He  was  glad  then  to  be  traveling  in  the  wake  of 
304 


The  Doctor's  Discovery  305 

the  friendly  old  Englishman  and  his  party.  Through 
their  interpreter,  arrangements  were  made  to  have 
him  carried  to  one  of  the  tents  of  a  primitive  sort 
of  a  hospital,  kept  by  some  native  missionaries. 
The  Englishman's  young  assistant  went  with  him. 
He  was  a  quiet  fellow  whom  Mr.  Bowles  had  jok- 
ingly dubbed  David  the  silent,  because  it  was  so  hard 
to  make  him  talk.  But  Doctor  Huntingdon,  a  re- 
served, silent  man  himself,  had  been  attracted  to  him 
by  that  very  trait. 

During  the  months  they  had  been  thrown  together 
so  much,  Dave  had  taken  great  interest  in  the  Doc- 
tor's reports  of  the  experiments  he  was  making  in 
treating  the  disease.  When  the  Doctor  was  told 
that  Mr.  Bowles  had  gone  back  to  the  coast,  having 
found  what  he  wanted  and  made  his  notes  for  his 
next  book,  and  consequently  Dave  was  free  to  stay 
and  nurse  him,  he  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

Dave  stopped  his  thanks  almost  gruffly. 

"There's  more  than  one  reason  for  my  staying," 
he  said.  "I've  been  sick  among  strangers  in  a  strange 
country,  myself,  and  I  know  how  it  feels.  Besides, 
I'm  interested  in  seeing  if  this  new  treatment  of 
yours  works  out  on  a  white  man  as  well  as  it  did  on 
these  natives.  I'll  be  doing  as  much  in  the  way  of 
scientific  research,  keeping  a  chart  on  you,  as  if  I 
were  taking  notes  for  Mr.  Bowles." 

That  was  a  long  speech  for  Dave,  the  longest  that 
he  made  during  the  Doctor's  illness.  But  in  the  days 


306        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

which  followed,  one  might  well  have  wondered  if 
there  was  not  a  greater  reason  than  those1  he  offered 
for  such  devoted  attendance.  He  was  always  within 
call,  always  so  quick  to  notice  a  want  that  usually  a 
wish  was  gratified  before  it  could  be  expressed.  His 
was  a  devotion  too  constant  to  be  prompted  merely 
by  sympathy  for  a  fellow-country-man  or  interest  in 
medical  experiments. 

Once,  when  the  Doctor  was  convalescing,  he 
opened  his  eyes  to  find  his  silent  attendant  sitting  be- 
side him  reading,  and  studied  him  for  some  time, 
unobserved. 

"Dave,"  he  said,  after  watching  him  a  while — "it's 
the  queerest  thing — lately  every  time  I  look  at  you 
I'm  reminded  of  home.  You  must  resemble  some- 
one I  used  to  know  back  there,  but  for  the  life  of  me 
I  can't  recall  who." 

Dave  answered  indifferently,  without  glancing  up 
from  the  page. 

"There's  probably  a  thousand  fellows  that  look 
like  me.  I'm  medium  height  and  about  every  third 
person  you  see  back  in  the  States  has  gray  eyes  like 
mine,  and  just  the  ordinary  every-day  sort  of  fea- 
tures that  I  have." 

The  Doctor  made  no  answer.  It  never  would  have 
occurred  to  him  to  tell  Dave  in  what  way  his  face 
differed  from  the  many  others  of  his  type.  There 
was  a  certain  kindliness  of  twinkle  in  the  gray  eyes 
at  times,  and  always  a  straightforward  honesty  of 


The  Doctor's  Discovery  307 

gaze  that  made  one  instinctively  trust  him.  There 
was  strength  of  purpose  in  the  resolute  set  of  his 
mouth,  and  one  could  not  imagine  him  being  turned 
back  on  any  road  which  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
travel  to  the  end. 

Several  days  after  that  when  the  Doctor  was  sit- 
ting up  outside  the  tent,  the  resemblance  to  someone 
whom  he  could  not  recall,  puzzled  him  again.  Dave 
was  whittling,  his  lips  pursed  up  as  he  whistled  softly 
in  an  absent-minded  sort  of  way. 

"Dave,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  "there's  something 
in  the  way  you  sit  there,  whittling  and  whistling  that 
brings  little  old  Provincetown  right  up  before  my 
eyes.  I  can  see  old  Captain  Ames  sitting  there  on 
the  wharf  on  a  coil  of  rope,  whittling  just  as  you 
are  doing,  and  joking  with  Sam  and  the  crew  as  they 
pile  into  the  boat  to  go  out  to  the  weirs.  I  can  see 
the  nets  spread  out  to  dry  alongshore,  and  smell  tar 
and  codfish  as  plain  as  if  it  were  here  right  under 
my  nose.  And  down  in  Fishburn  Court  there's  the  lit- 
tle house  that  was  always  a  second  home  to  me,  with 
Uncle  Darcy  pottering  around  in  the  yard,  singing 
his  old  sailors'  songs." 

The  Doctor  closed  his  eyes  and  drew  in  a  long, 
slow  breath. 

"Urn!  There's  the  most  delicious  smell  coming 
out  of  that  kitchen — blueberry  pies  that  Aunt  Els- 
peth's  baking.  What  wouldn't  1  give  this  minute  for 
one  of  those  good,  juicy  blueberry  pies  of  hers,  smok- 


308        Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

ing  hot.  I  can  smell  it  clear  over  here  in  China. 
There  never  was  anything  in  the  world  that  tasted 
half  so  good.  I  was  always  tagging  around  after 
Uncle  Darcy,  as  I  called  him.  He  was  the  Town- 
crier,  and  one  of  those  staunch,  honest  souls  who 
make  you  believe  in  the  goodness  of  God  and  man 
no  matter  what  happens  to  shake  the  foundations  of 
your  faith." 

The  Doctor  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  up  in- 
quiringly, startled  by  the  knocking  over  of  the  stool 
on  which  Dave  had  been  sitting.  He  had  risen  ab- 
ruptly and  gone  inside  the  tent. 

"Go  on,"  he  called  back.     "I  can  hear  you." 

He  seemed  to  be  looking  for  something,  for  he  was 
striding  up  and  down  in  its  narrow  space.  The  Doc- 
tor raised  his  voice  a  trifle. 

"That's  all  I  had  to  say.  I  didn't  intend  to  bore 
you  talking  about  people  and  places  you  never  heard 
of.  But  it  just  came  over  me  in  a  big  wave — that 
feeling  of  homesickness  that  makes  you  feel  you've 
got  to  get  back  or  die.  Did  you  ever  have  it?" 

"Yes,"  came  the  answer  in  an  indifferent  tone. 
"Several  times." 

"Well,  it's  got  me  now,  right  by  the  throat." 

Presently  he  called,  "Dave,  while  you're  in  there 
I  wish  you'd  look  in  my  luggage  and  see  what  news- 
papers are  folded  up  with  it.  I  have  a  dim  recol- 
lection that  a  Provincetown  Advocate  came  about 
the  time  I  was  taken  sick  and  I  never  opened  it. 


The  Doctor's  Discovery  309 

"Ah,  that's  it!"  he  exclaimed  when  Dave  emerged 
presently,  holding  out  the  newspaper.  "Look  at  the 
cut  across  the  top  of  the  first  page.  Old  Province- 
town  itself.  It's  more  for  the  name  of  the  town 
printed  across  that  picture  of  the  harbor  than  for  the 
news  that  I  keep  on  taking  the  paper.  Ordinarily, 
I  never  do  more  than  glance  at  the  news  items,  but 
there's  time  to-day  to  read  even  the  advertisements. 
You've  no  idea  how  good  those  familiar  old  names 
look  to  me." 

He  read  some  of  them  aloud,  smiling  over  the 
memories  they  awakened.  But  he  read  without  an 
auditor,  for  Dave  found  he  had  business  with  one 
of  the  missionaries,  and  put  off  to  attend  to  it.  On 
his  return  he  was  greeted  with  the  announcement  : 

"Dave,  I  want  to  get  out  of  here.  I'm  sure  there 
must  be  a  big  pile  of  mail  waiting  for  me  right  now 
in  Hong-Kong,  and  I'm  willing  to  risk  the  trip.  Let's 
start  back  to-morrow." 

Several  days  later  they  were  in  Hong-Kong,  en- 
joying the  luxuries  of  civilization  in  the  big  hotel. 
Still  weak  from  his  recent  illness  and  fatigued  by 
the  hardships  of  his  journey,  Doctor  Huntingdon 
did  not  go  down  to  lunch  the  day  of  their  arrival. 
It  was  served  in  his  room,  and  as  he  ate  he  stopped 
at  intervals  to  take  another  dip  into  the  pile  of  mail 
which  had  been  brought  up  to  him. 

In  his  methodical  way  he  opened  the  letters  in  the 
order  of  their  arrival,  beginning  with  the  one  whose 


310         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

postmark  showed  the  earliest  date.  It  took  a  long 
time  to  finish  eating  on  account  of  these  pauses.  Hop 
Ching  was  bringing  in  his  coffee  when  Dave  came 
back,  having  had  not  only  his  lunch  in  the  dining- 
room,  but  a  stroll  through  the  streets  afterward. 
He  found  Doctor  Huntingdon  with  a  photograph 
propped  up  in  front  of  him,  studying  it  intently  while 
Hop  Ching  served  the  coffee.  The  Doctor  passed 
the  photograph  to  Dave. 

"Take  it  over  to  the  window  where  you  can  get  a 
good  light  on  it,"  he  commanded.  "Isn't  that  a 
peach  of  a  picture?  That's  my  little  daughter  and 
the  old  friend  I'm  always  quoting.  The  two  seem 
to  be  as  great  chums  as  he  and  I  used  to  be.  I  don't 
want  to  bore  you,  Dave,  but  I  would  like  to  read  you 
this  letter  that  she  wrote  to  her  mother,  and  her 
mother  sent  on  to  me.  In  the  first  place  I'm  proud 
of  her  writing  such  a  letter.  I  had  no  idea  she  could 
express  herself  so  well,  and  secondly  the  subject  mat- 
ter makes  it  an  interesting  document. 

"On  my  little  girl's  birthday  Uncle  Darcy  took 
her  out  in  his  boat,  The  Betsey.  The  name  of  that 
old  boat  certainly  does  sound  good  to  me !  He  told 
her — but  wait !  I'd  rather  read  it  to  you  in  her  own 
words.  It'll  give  you  such  a  good  idea  of  the  old 
man.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  explain  that  he  had  a  son 
who  got  into  trouble  some  ten  years  ago,  and  left 
home.  He  was  just  a  little  chap  when  I  saw  him 


'I  3\ 


The  Doctor's  Discovery  311 

last,  hardly  out  of  dresses,  the  fall  I  left  home  for 
college. 

"Uncle  Darcy  and  Aunt  Elspeth  were  fairly  fool- 
ish about  him.  He  had  come  into  their  lives  late, 
you  see,  after  their  older  children  died.  I  don't  be- 
liev  :t  would  make  any  difference  to  them  what  he'd 
do.  i'hey  would  welcome  him  back  from  the  very 
gallows  if  he'd  only  come.  His  mother  never  has 
believed  he  did  anything  wrong,  and  the  hope  of  the 
old  man's  life  is  that  his  'Danny,'  as  he  calls  him, 
will  make  good  in  some  way — do  something  to  wipe 
out  the  stain  on  his  name  and  come  back  to  him." 

The  Doctor  paused  as  if  waiting  for  some  encour- 
agement to  read. 

"Go  on,"  said  Dave.  "I'd  like  to  hear  it,  best  in 
the  world." 

He  turned  his  chair  so  that  he  could  look  out  of 
the  window  at  the  harbor.  The  Chinese  sampans 
of  every  color  were  gliding  across  the  water  like  a 
flock  of  gaily-hued  swans.  He  seemed  to  be  divid- 
ing his  attention  between  those  native  boats  and  the 
letter  when  the  Doctor  first  began  to  read.  It  was 
Georgina's  rainbow  letter,  and  the  colors  of  the  rain- 
bow were  repeated  again  and  again  by  the  reds  and 
yellows  and  blues  of  that  fleet  of  sampans. 

But  as  the  Doctor  read  on  Dave  listened  more  in- 
tently, so  intently,  in  fact,  that  he  withdrew  his  at- 
tention entirely  from  the  window,  and  leaning  for- 


312         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

ward,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  his  elbows  rest- 
ing on  his  knees.  The  Doctor  found  him  in  this  at- 
titude when  he  looked  up  at  the  end,  expecting  some 
sort,  of  comment.  He  was  used  to  Dave's  silences, 
but  he  had  thought  this  surely  would  call  forth  some 
remark.  Then  as  he  studied  the  bowed  figure,  it 
flashed  into  his  mind  that  the  letter  must  have 
touched  some  chord  in  the  boy's  own  past.  Maybe 
Dave  had  an  old  father  somewhere,  longing  for  his 
return,  and  the  memory  was  breaking  him  all  up. 

Silently,  the  Doctor  turned  aside  to  the  pile  of  let- 
ters still  unread.  Georgina's  stern  little  note  begin- 
ning "Dear  Sir"  was  the  next  in  order  and  was  in 
such  sharp  contrast  to  the  loving,  intimate  way  she 
addressed  her  mother,  that  he  felt  the  intended  re- 
proach of  it,  even  while  it  amused  and  surprised  him. 
But  it  hurt  a  little.  It  wasn't  pleasant  to  have  his 
only  child  regard  him  as  a  stranger.  It  was  for- 
tunate that  the  next  letter  was  the  one  in  which  she 
hastened  to  call  him  "a  Saint-George-and-the-dragon 
^ort  of  father." 

When  he  read  Barbara's  explanation  of  his  long 
silence  and  Georgina's  quick  acceptance  of  it,  he 
wanted  to  take  them  both  in  his  arms  and  tell  them 
how  deeply  he  was  touched  by  their  love  and  loyalty; 
that  he  hadn't  intended  to  be  neglectful  of  them  or  so 
absorbed  in  his  work  that  he  put  it  first  in  his  life. 
But  it  was  hard  for  him  to  put  such  things  into  words, 
either  written  or  spoken.  He  had  left  too  much  to 


The  Doctor's  Discovery  313 

be  taken  for  granted  he  admitted  remorsefully  to 
himself. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  staring  sternly  into  space. 
So  people  had  been  gossiping  about  him,  had  they? 
And  Barbara  and  the  baby  had  heard  the  whispers 

and  been  hurt  by  them He'd  go  home  and  put  a 

stop  to  it.  He  straightened  himself  up  and  turned 
to  report  his  sudden  decision  to  Dave.  But  the  chair 
by  the  window  was  empty.  The  Doctor  glanced  over 
his  shoulder.  Dave  had  changed  his  seat  and  was 
sitting  behind  him.  They  were  back  to  back,  but  a 
mirror  hung  in  such  a  way  the  Doctor  could  see 
Dave's  face. 

With  arms  crossed  on  a  little  table  in  front  of 
him,  he  was  leaning  forward  for  another  look  at  the 
photograph  which  he  had  propped  up  against  a  vase. 
A  hungry  yearning  was  in  his  face  as  he  bent  to- 
wards it,  gazing  into  it  as  if  he  could  not  look  his 
fill.  Suddenly  his  head  went  down  on  his  crossed 
arms  in  such  a  hopeless  fashion  that  in  a  flash 
Doctor  Huntingdon  divined  the  reason,  and  recog- 
nized the  resemblance  that  had  haunted  him.  Now 
he  understood  why  the  boy  had  stayed  behind  to 
nurse  him.  Now  a  dozen  trifling  incidents  that  had 
seemed  of  no  importance  to  him  at  the  time,  con- 
firmed his  suspicion. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  cry  out  "Dan!"  but  his 
life-long  habit  of  repression  checked  him.  He  felt 
he  had  no  right  to  intrude  on  the  privacy  which  the 


314         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

boy  guarded  so  jealously.  But  Uncle  Darcy's  son ! 
Off  here  in  a  foreign  land,  bowed  down  with  remorse 
and  homesickness !  How  he  must  have  been  tor- 
tured with  all  that  talk  of  the  old  town  and  its 
people! 

A  great  wave  of  pity  and  yearning  tenderness 
swept  through  the  Doctor's  heart  as  he  sat  twisted 
around  in  his  chair,  staring  at  that  reflection  in  the 
mirror.  He  was  uncertain  what  he  ought  to  do.  He 
longed  to  go  to  him  with  some  word  of  comfort,  but 
he  shrank  from  the  thought  of  saying  anything 
which  would  seem  an  intrusion. 

Finally  he  rose,  and  walking  across  the  room,  laid 
his  hand  on  the  bowed  shoulder  with  a  sympathetic 
pressure. 

"Look  here,  my  boy,"  he  said,  in  his  deep,  quiet 
voice.  "I'm  not  asking  you  what  the  trouble  is,  but 
whatever  it  is  you'll  let  me  help  you,  won't  you? 
You've  given  me  the  right  to  ask  that  by  all  you've 
done  for  me.  Anything  I  could  do  would  be  only 
too  little  for  one  who  has  stood  by  me  the  way  you 
have.  I  want  you  to  feel  that  I'm  your  friend  in  the 
deepest  meaning  of  that  word.  You  can  count  on  me 
for  anything."  Then  in  a  lighter  tone  as  he  gave  the 
shoulder  a  half-playful  slap  he  added,  "I'm  for  you, 


son." 


The  younger  man  raised  his  head  and  straightened 
himself  up  in  his  chair. 

"You  wouldn't  be!"  he  exclaimed,  "if  you  knew 


The  Doctor's  Discovery  315 

who  I  am."  Then  he  blurted  out  the  confession: 
"I'm  Dan  Darcy.  I  can't  let  you  go  on  believing  in 
me  when  you  talk  like  that." 

"But  I  knew  it  when  I  said  what  I  did,"  inter- 
rupted Doctor  Huntingdon.  "It  flashed  over  me 
first  when  I  saw  you  looking  at  your  father's  picture. 
No  man  could  look  at  a  stranger's  face  that  way. 
Then  I  knew  what  the  resemblance  was  that  has 
puzzled  me  ever  since  I  met  you.  The  only  wonder 
to  me  is  that  I  did  not  see  it  long  ago." 

"You  knew  it,"  repeated  Dan  slowly,  "and  yet 
you  told  me  to  count  you  as  a  friend  in  the  deepest 
meaning  of  that  word.  How  could  you  mean  it?" 

The  Doctor's  answer  came  with  deep  impressive- 
ness. 

"Because,  despite  whatever  slip  you  may  have 
made  as  a  boy  of  eighteen,  you  have  grown  into  a 
man  worthy  of  such  a  friendship.  A  surgeon  in  my 
position  learns  to  read  character,  learns  to  know  an 
honest  man  when  he  sees  one.  No  matter  what  lies 
behind  you  that  you  regret,  I  have  every  confidence 
in  you  now,  Dan.  I  am  convinced  you  are  worthy 
to  be  the  son  of  even  such  a  man  as  Daniel  Darcy." 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  have  it  taken  in  a  long, 
silent  grip  that  made  it  ache. 

"Come  on  and  go  back  home  with  me,"  urged  the 
Doctor.  "You've  made  good  out  here.  Do  the 
brave  thing  now  and  go  back  and  live  down  the  past. 
It'll  make  the  old  folks  so  happy  it'll  wipe  out  the 


316         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

heart-break  of  all  those  years  that  you've  been 
away." 

Dan's  only  response  was  another  grasp  of  the 
Doctor's  hand  as  strong  and  as  painful  as  the  first. 
Pulling  himself  up  by  it  he  stood  an  instant  trying 
to  say  something,  then,  too  overcome  to  utter  a  word, 
made  a  dash  for  the  door. 

Doctor  Huntingdon  was  so  stirred  by  the  scene 
that  he  found  it  difficult  to  go  back  to  his  letters,  but 
the  very  next  one  in  order  happened  to  be  the  one 
Georgina  wrote  to  her  mother  just  after  Belle  Had 
given  her  consent  to  Barby's  being  told  of  Emmett's 
confession.  He  read  the  latter  part  of  it,  standing, 
for  he  had  sprung  to  his  feet  with  the  surprise  of  its 
opening  sentence.  He  did  not  even  know  that  Em- 
mett  had  been  dead  all  these  years,  and  Dan,  who 
had  had  no  word  from  home  during  all  his  absence, 
could  not  know  it  either.  He  was  in  a  tremor  of 
eagerness  to  hurry  to  him  with  the  news,  but  he 
waited  to  scan  the  rest  of  the  letter. 

Then  with  it  fluttering  open  in  his  hand  he  strode 
across  the  hall  and  burst  into  Dan's  room  without 
knocking. 

"Pack  up  your  junk,  this  minute,  boy,"  he  shouted. 
"We  take  the  first  boat  out  of  here  for  home.  Look 
at  this!" 

He  thrust  Georgina's  letter  before  Dan's  bewild- 
ered eyes. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

WHILE    THEY   WAITED 

comes  the  boy  from  the  telegraph 
office."  Mrs.  Triplett  spoke  with  such  a 
raven-like  note  of  foreboding  in  her  voice  that  Geor- 
gina,  practising  her  daily  scales,  let  her  hands  fall 
limply  from  the  keys. 

"The  Tishbite !"  she  thought  uneasily.  What  evil 
was  it  about  to  send  into  the  house  now,  under  cover 
of  that  yellow  envelope?  Would  it  take  Barby 
away  from  her  as  it  had  done  before? 

Sitting  motionless  on  the  piano  stool,  she  waited 
in  dread  while  Mrs.  Triplett  hurried  to  the  door  be- 
fore the  boy  could  ring,  signed  for  the  message  and 
silently  bore  it  upstairs.  The  very  fact  that  she 
went  up  with  it  herself,  instead  of  calling  to  Barby 
that  a  message  had  come,  gave  Georgina  the  impres- 
sion that  it  contained  bad  news. 

"A  cablegram  for  me?"  she  heard  Barby  ask. 
Then  there  was  a  moment's  silence  in  which  she 
knew  the  message  was  being  opened  and  read.  Then 
there  was  a  murmur  as  if  she  were  reading  it  aloud 
to  Tippy  and  then — an  excited  whirlwind  of  a  Barby 
flying  down  the  stairs,  her  eyes  like  happy  stars,  her 

317 


318         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

arms  outstretched  to  gather  Georgina  into  them,  and 
her  voice  half  laugh,  half  sob,  singing: 

"Oh,  he's  coming  home  to  me 
Baby  mine!" 

Never  before  had  Georgina  seen  her  so  radiant, 
so  excited,  so  overflowingly  happy  that  she  gave  vent 
to  her  feelings  as  a  little  schoolgirl  might  have  done. 
Seizing  Georgina  in  her  arms  she  waltzed  her  around 
the  room  until  she  was  dizzy.  Coming  to  a  pause 
at  the  piano  stool  she  seated  herself  and  played, 
"The  Year  of  Jubilee  Has  Come,"  in  deep,  crash- 
ing chords  and  trickly  little  runs  and  trills,  till  the 
old  tune  was  transformed  into  a  paen  of  jubilation. 

Then  she  took  the  message  from  her  belt,  where 
she  had  tucked  it  and  re-read  it  to  assure  herself  of 
its  reality. 

"Starting  Home  immediately.  Stay  three  months, 
dragon  captured." 

"That  must  mean  that  his  quest  has  been  fairly 
successful,"  she  said.  "If  he's  found  the  cause  of 
the  disease  it'll  be  only  a  matter  of  time  till  he  finds 
how  to  kill  it." 

Then  she  looked  up,  puzzled. 

"How  strange  for  him  to  call  it  the  dragon. 
How  could  he  know  we'd  understand,  and  that  we've 
been  calling  it  that?" 

Georgina's  time  had  come  for  confession. 


While  They  Waited  319 

"Oh,  I  wrote  him  a  little  note  after  you  told  me 
the  story  and  told  him  I  was  proud  of  having  a 
Saint-George-kind  of  a  father,  and  that  we  hoped 
every  day  he'd  get  the  microbe." 

"You  darling!"  exclaimed  Barbara,  drawing  her 
to  her  for  another  impulsive  hug.  She  did  not  ask 
as  Georgina  was  afraid  she  would: 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  writing  to  your 
father?"  Barbara  understood,  without  asking,  re- 
membering the  head  bowed  in  her  lap  after  that  con- 
fession of  her  encounter  with  the  prying  stranger  in 
the  bakery. 

Suddenly  Georgina  asked : 

"Barby,  what  is  the  'Tishbite?'  " 

"The  what?"  echoed  Barby,  wrinkling  her  fore- 
head in  perplexity. 

"The  Tishbite.  Don't  you  know  it  says  in  the 
Bible,  Elijah  and  the  Tishbite " 

"Oh,  no,  dear,  you've  turned  it  around,  and  put 
the  and  in  the  wrong  place.  It  is  'And  Elijah  the 
Tishbite,'  just  as  we'd  say  William  the  Norman  or 
Manuel  the  Portuguese." 

"Well,  for  pity  sakes!"  drawled  Georgina  in  a 
long,  slow  breath  of  relief.  "Is  that  all?  I  wish  I'd 
known  it  long  ago.  It  would  have  saved  me  a  lot  of 
scary  feelings." 

Then  she  told  how  she  had  made  the  wish  on  the 
star  and  tried  to  prove  it  as  Belle  had  taught  her,  by 
opening  the  Bible  at  random. 


320         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"If  you  had  read  on,"  said  Barby,  "you'd  have 
found  what  it  meant  your  own  self." 

"But  the  book  shut  up  before  I  had  a  chance,"  ex- 
plained Georgina.  "And  I  never  could  find  the  place 
again,  although  I've  hunted  and  hunted.  And  I 
was  sure  it  meant  some  sort  of  devil,  and  that  it 
would  come  and  punish  me  for  using  the  Bible  that 
way  as  if  it  were  a  hoodoo." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  ask  me?"  insisted  Barby. 
"There's  another  time  you  see,  when  a  big  worry 
and  misunderstanding  could  have  been  cleared  away 
with  a  word.  To  think  of  your  living  in  dread  all 
that  time,  when  the  Tishbite  was  only  a  good  old 
prophet  whose  presence  brought  a  blessing  to  the 
house  which  sheltered  him." 

That  night  when  Georgina's  curls  were  being 
brushed  she  said,  "Barby,  I  know  now  who  my 
Tishbite  is;  it's  Captain  Kidd.  He's  brought  a 
blessing  ever  since  he  came  to  this  town.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  his  barking  that  day  we  were  playing  in 
the  garage  I  wouldn't  be  here  now  to  tell  the  tale. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  him  I  wouldn't  have  known- 
Richard,  and  we'd  never  have  started  to  playing 
pirate.  And  if  we  hadn't  played  pirate  Richard 
wouldn't  have  asked  to  borrow  the  rifle,  and  if  he 
hadn't  asked  we  never  would  have  found  the  note 
hidden  in  the  stock,  and  if  we  hadn't  found  the  note 
nobody  would  have  known  that  Danny  was  inno- 
cent. Then  if  Captain  Kidd  hadn't  found  the  pouch 


While  They  Waited  321 

we  wouldn't  have  seen  the  compass  that  led  to  find- 
ing the  wild-cat  woman  who  told  us  that  Danny  was 
alive  and  well." 

"What  a  House-That-Jack-Built  sort  of  tale  that 
was!"  exclaimed  Barby,  much  amused.  "We'll  have 
to  do  something  in  Captain  Kidd's  honor.  Give  him 
a  party  perhaps,  and  light  up  the  holiday  tree." 

The  usual  bedtime  ceremonies  were  over,  and 
Barby  had  turned  out  the  light  and  reached  the  door 
when  Georgina  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  to  call: 

"Barby,  I've  just  thought  of  it.  The  wish  I  made 
on  that  star  that  night  is  beginning  to  come  true. 
Nearly  everybody  I  know  is  happy  about  something." 
Then  she  snuggled  her  head  down  on  the  pillow 
with  a  little  wriggle  of  satisfaction.  "Ugh !  this  is 
such  a  good  world.  I'm  so  glad  I'm  living  in  it. 
Aren't  you?" 

And  Barby  had  to  come  all  the  way  back  in  the 
dark  to  emphasize  her  heartfelt  "yes,  indeed,"  with 
a  hug,  and  to  seal  the  restless  eyelids  down  with  a 
kiss — the  only  way  to  make  them  stay  shut. 

Richard  came  back  the  next  day.  He  brought  a 
picture  to  Georgina  from  Mr.  Locke.  It  was  the 
copy  of  the  illustration  he  had  promised  her,  the 
fairy  shallop  with  its  sails  set  wide,  coming  across 
a  sea  of  Dreams,  and  at  the  prow,  white-handed 
Hope,  the  angel  girt  with  golden  wings,  which  swept 
back  over  the  sides  of  the  vessel. 

"Think  of  having  a  painting  by  the  famous  Mil- 


322         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

ford  Norris  Locke !"  exclaimed  Barby.  She  hung 
over  it  admiringly.  "Most  people  would  be  happy 
to  have  just  his  autograph."  She  bent  nearer  to  ex- 
amine the  name  in  the  corner  of  the  picture.  "What's 
this  underneath?  Looks  like  number  IV." 

"Oh,  that  means  he's  number  four  in  our  Rain- 
bow Club.  Peggy  Burrell  is  number,  five  and  the 
Captain  is  number  six.  That's  all  the  members  we 
have  so  far." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  count  me  in?"  asked  Barby. 

"Oh,  you  are  counted  in.  You've  belonged  from 
the  beginning.  We  made  you  an  honary  member 
or  whatever  it  is  they  call  it,  people  who  deserve  to 
belong  because  they're  always  doing  nice  things, 
but  don't  know  it.  There's  you  and  Uncle  Darcy 
and  Captain  Kidd,  because  he  saved  our  lives  and 
saved  our  families  from  having  to  have  a  double 
funeral." 

Barby  stooped  to  take  the  little  terrier's  head  be- 
tween her  hands  and  pat-a-cake  it  back  and  forth 
with  an  affectionate  caress. 

"Captain  Kidd,"  she  said  gaily,  "you  shall  have 
a  party  this  very  night,  and  there  shall  be  bones  and 
cakes  on  the  holiday  tree,  and  you  shall  be  the  best 
man  with  a  'normous  blue  bow  on  your  collar,  and 
we'll  all  dance  around  in  your  honor  this  way." 

Springing  to  her  feet  and  holding  the  terrier's 
front  paws,  she  waltzed  him  around  and  around  on 
his  hind  legs,  singing: 


While  They  Waited  323 

"All  around  the  barberry  bush, 
Barberry  bush,  barberry  bush. 
All  around  the  barberry  bush 
So  early  in  the  morning" 

Georgina,  accustomed  all  her  life  to  such  frisky 
performances,  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that 
Barby  should  give  vent  to  her  feelings  in  the  same 
way  that  she  herself  would  have  done,  but  Richard 
stood  by,  bewildered.  It  was  a  revelation  to  him 
that  anybody's  mother  could  be  so  charmingly  and 
unreservedly  gay.  She  seemed  more  like  a  big  sis- 
ter than  any  of  the  mothers  of  his  acquaintance. 
He  couldn't  remember  his  own,  and  while  Aunt  Letty 
was  always  sweet  and  good  to  him  he  couldn't  imag- 
ine her  waltzing  a  dog  around  on  its  hind  legs  any 
more  than  he  could  imagine  Mrs.  Martha  Washing- 
ton doing  it. 

The  holiday  tree  was  another  revelation  to  him, 
when  he  came  back  at  dusk  to  find  it  lighted  with  the 
colored  lanterns  and  blooming  with  flags  and  hung 
with  surprises  for  Georgina  and  himself. 

"You've  never  seen  it  lighted,"  Barby  explained, 
"and  Georgina's  birthday  had  to  be  skipped  because 
I  wasn't  here  to  celebrate,  so  we've  rolled  all  the 
holidays  into  one,  for  a  grand  celebration  in  Cap- 
tain Kidd's  honor." 

It  was  to  shorten  the  time  of  waiting  that  Barbara 
threw  herself  into  the  children's  games  and  pleasures 


324         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

so  heartily.  Every  night  she  tore  a  leaf  off  the  cal- 
endar and  planned  something  to  fill  up  the  next  day 
to  the  brim  with  work  or  play.  They  climbed  to  the 
top  of  the  monument  when  she  found  that  Richard 
had  never  made  the  ascent,  and  stood  long,  looking 
off  to  Plymouth,  twenty  miles  away,  and  at  the  town 
spread  out  below  them,  seeming  from  their  great 
height,  a  tiny  toy  village.  They  went  to  Truro  to 
see  the  bayberry  candle-dipping.  They  played  Maud 
Muller,  raking  the  yard,  because  the  boy  whom  old 
Jeremy  had  installed  in  his  place  had  hurt  his  foot. 
Old  Jeremy,  being  well  on  toward  ninety  now,  no 
longer  attempted  any  work,  though  still  hale  and 
hearty.  But  the  garden  had  been  his  especial  do- 
main too  long  for  him  to  give  it  up  entirely,  and 
he  spent  hours  in  it  daily,  to  the  disgust  of  his  easy- 
going successor. 

There  were  picnics  at  Highland  Light  and  the 
Race  Point  life-saving  station.  There  were  long 
walks  out  the  state  road,  through  the  dunes  and  by 
the  cranberry  bogs.  But  everything  which  speeded 
Barbara's  weeks  of  feverish  waiting,  hurrying  her 
on  nearer  her  heart's  desire,  brought  Richard  nearer 
to  the  time  of  parting  from  the  old  seaport  town 
and  the  best  times  he  had  ever  known.  He  had 
kodak  pictures  of  all  their  outings.  Most  of  them 
were  light-struck  or  out  of  focus  or  over-exposed, 
but  he  treasured  them  because  he  had  taken  them 
himself  with  his  first  little  Brownie  camera.  There 


While  They  Waited  325 

was  nothing  wrong  or  queer  with  the  recollection  of 
the  scenes  they  brought  to  him.  His  memory  photo- 
graphed only  perfect  days,  and  he  dreaded  to  have 
them  end. 

Before  those  weeks  were  over  Richard  began  to 
feel  that  he  belonged  to  Barby  in  a  way,  and  she  to 
him.  There  were  many  little  scenes  of  which  no 
snapshot  could  be  taken,  which  left  indelible  impres- 
sions. 

For  instance,  those  evenings  in  the  dim  room 
lighted  only  by  the  moonlight  streaming  in  through 
the  open  windows,  when  Barby  sat  at  the  piano  with 
Georgina  beside  her,  singing,  while  he  looked  out 
over  the  sea  and  felt  the  soul  of  him  stir  vaguely,  as 
if  he  had  wings  somewhere,  waiting  to  be  unfurled. 

The  last  Sunday  of  his  vacation  he  went  to  church 
with  Barbara  and  Georgina.  It  wasn't  the  Church 
of  the  Pilgrims,  but  another  white-towered  one  near 
by.  The  president  of  the  bank  was  one  of  the  ush- 
ers. He  called  Richard  by  name  when  he  shook 
hands  with  the  three  of  them  at  the  door.  That  in 
itself  gave  Richard  a  sense  of  importance  and  of 
being  welcome.  It  was  a  plain  old-fashioned  church, 
its  only  decoration  a  big  bowl  of  tiger-lilies  on  a  table 
down  in  front  of  the  pulpit.  When  he  took  his  seat 
in  one  of  the  high  front  pews  he  felt  that  he  had 
never  been  in  such  a  quiet,  peaceful  place  before. 

They  were  very  early.  The  windows  were  open, 
and  now  and  then  a  breeze  blowing  in  from  the  sea 


326         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

fluttered  the  leaves  of  a  hymn-book  lying  open  on  the 
front  seat.  Each  time  they  fluttered  he  heard  an- 
other sound  also,  as  faint  and  sweet  as  if  it  were 
the  ringing  of  little  crystal  bells.  Georgina,  on  the 
other  side  of  Barby,  heard  it  too,  and  they  looked  at 
each  other  questioningly.  Then  Richard  discovered 
where  the  tinkle  came  from,  and  pointed  upward 
to  call  her  attention  to  it.  There,  from  the  center 
of  the  ceiling  swung  a  great,  old-fashioned  chande- 
lier, hung  with  a  circle  of  pendant  prisms,  each  one 
as  large  and  shining  as  the  one  Uncle  Darcy  had 
given  her. 

Georgina  knew  better  than  to  whisper  in  such  a 
place,  but  she  couldn't  help  leaning  past  Barby  so 
that  Richard  could  see  her  lips  silently  form  the 
words,  "Rainbow  Club."  She  wondered  if  Mr. 
Gates  had  started  it.  There  were  enough  prisms 
for  nearly  every  member  in  the  church  to  claim  one. 

Barby,  reading  the  silent  message  of  her  lips  and 
guessing  that  Georgina  was  wondering  over  the  dis- 
covery, moved  her  own  lips  to  form  the  words,  "just 
honorary  members." 

Georgina  nodded  her  satisfaction.  It  was  good 
to  know  that  there  were  so  many  of  them  in  the 
world,  all  working  for  the  same  end,  whether  they 
realized  it  or  not. 

Just  before  the  service  began  an  old  lady  in  the 
adjoining  pew  next  to  Richard,  reached  over  the  par- 
tition and  offered  him  several  cloves.  He  was  too 


While  They  Waited  327 

astonished  to  refuse  them  and  showed  them  to  Barby, 
not  knowing  what  to  do  with  them.  She  leaned  down 
and  whispered  behind  her  fan: 

"She  eats  them  to  keep  her  awake  in  church." 

Richard  had  no  intention  of  going  to  sleep,  but 
he  chewed  one  up,  finding  it  so  hot  it  almost  strangled 
him.  Every  seat  was  filled  in  a  short  time,  and  pres- 
ently a  drowsiness  crept  into  the  heated  air  which 
began  to  weave  some  kind  of  a  spell  around  him. 
His  shoes  were  new  and  his  collar  chafed  his  neck. 
His  eyelids  grew  heavier  and  heavier.  He  stared 
at  the  lilies  till  the  whole  front  of  the  church  seemed 
filled  with  them.  He  looked  up  at  the  chandelier 
and  began  to  count  the  prisms,  and  watch  for  the 
times  that  the  breeze  swept  across  them  and  set  them 
to  tinkling. 

Then,  the  next  thing  that  he  knew  he  was  waking 
from  a  long  doze  on  Barby's  shoulder.  She  was 
fanning  him  with  slow  sweeps  of  her  white-feathered 
fan  which  smelled  deliciously  of  some  faint  per- 
fume, and  the  man  from  Boston  was  singing  all 
alone,  something  about  still  waves  and  being  brought 
into  a  haven. 

A  sense  of  Sabbath  peace  and  stillness  enfolded 
him,  with  the  beauty  of  the  music  and  the  lilies,  the 
tinkling  prisms,  the  faint,  warm  perfume  wafted 
across  his  face  by  Barby's  fan.  The  memory  of  it 
all  stayed  with  him  as  something  very  sacred  and 
sweet,  he  could  not  tell  why,  unless  it  was  that  Bar- 


328         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

by's  shoulder  was  such  a  dear  place  for  a  little  moth- 
erless lad's  head  to  lie. 

Georgina,  leaning  against  Barby  on  the  other 
side,  half  asleep,  sat  up  and  straightened  her  hat 
when  the  anthem  began.  Being  a  Huntingdon  she 
could  not  turn  as  some  people  did  and  stare  up  at 
the  choir  loft  behind  her  when  that  wonderful  voice 
sang  alone.  She  looked  up  at  the  prisms  instead, 
and  as  she  looked  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  voice 
was  the  voice  of  the  white  angel  Hope,  standing 
at  the  prow  of  a  boat,  its  golden  wings  sweeping 
back,  as  storm-tossed  but  triumphant,  it  brought  the 
vessel  in  at  last  to  happy  anchorage. 

The  words  which  the  voice  sang  were  the  words 
on  which  the  rainbow  had  rested,  that  day  she  read 
them  to  Aunt  Elspeth:  "So  He  bring eth  them 'into 
their  desired  haven."  They  had  seemed  like  music 
then,  but  now,  rolling  upward,  as  if  Hope  herself 
were  singing  them  at  the  prow  of  Life's  tossing  shal- 
lop, they  were  more  than  music.  They  voiced  the 
joy  of  great  desire  finding  great  fulfilment. 


CHAPTER    XXX 

NEARING   THE    END 

Mr.  Potter  has  had  a  stroke." 
Georgina  called  the  news  up  to  Richard  as 
she  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  Green  Stairs  on  her 
way  to  the  net-mender's  house. 

"Belle  sent  a  note  over  a  little  while  ago  and  I'm 
taking  the  answer  back.  Come  and  go  with  me." 

Richard,  who  had  been  trundling  Captain  Kidd 
around  on  his  forefeet  in  the  role  of  wheelbarrow, 
dropped  the  dog's  hind  legs  which  he  had  been  using 
as  handles  and  came  jumping  down  the  steps,  two  at 
a  time  to  do  her  bidding. 

"Belle's  gone  over  to  take  care  of  things,"  Geor- 
gina explained,  with  an  important  air  as  they  walked 
along.  "There's  a  man  to  help  nurse  him,  but  she'll 
stay  on  to  the  end."  Her  tone  and  words  were  Tip- 
py's own  as  she  made  this  announcement. 

"End  of  what?"  asked  Richard.  "And  what's  a 
stroke?" 

Half  an  hour  earlier  Georgina  could  not  have  an- 
swered his  question,  but  she  explained  now  with  the 
air  of  one  who  has  had  a  lifetime  of  experience.  It 
was  Mrs.  Triplett's  fund  she  was  drawing  on,  how- 
ever, and  old  Jeremy's.  Belle's  note  had  started 
them  to  comparing  reminiscences,  and  out  of  their 

329 


330         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

conversation  Georgina  had  gathered  many  grue- 
some facts. 

"You  may  be  going  about  as  well  and  hearty  as 
usual,  and  suddenly  it'll  strike  you  to  earth  like  light- 
ning, and  it  may  leave  you  powerless  to  move  for 
weeks  and  sometimes  even  years.  You  may  know  all 
that's  going  on  around  you  but  not  be  able  to  speak 
or  make  a  sign.  Mr.  Potter  isn't  as  bad  as  that,  but 
he's  speechless.  With  him  the  end  may  come  any 
time,  yet  he  may  linger  on  for  nobody  knows  how 
long." 

Richard  had  often  passed  the  net-mender's  cot- 
tage in  the  machine,  and  stared  in  at  the  old  man 
plying  his  twine-shuttle  in  front  of  the  door.  The 
fact  that  he  was  Emmett's  father  and  ignorant  of 
the  secret  which  Richard  shared,  made  an  object  of 
intense  interest  out  of  an  otherwise  unattractive  and 
commonplace  old  man.  Now  that  interest  grew 
vast  and  overshadowing  as  the  children  approached 
the  house. 

Belle,  stepping  to  the  front  door  when  she  heard 
the  gate  click,  motioned  for  them  to  go  around  to 
the  back.  As  they  passed  an  open  side  window,  each 
looked  in,  involuntarily  attracted  by  the  sight  of  a 
bed  drawn  up  close  to  it.  Then  they  glanced  at  each 
other,  startled  and  awed  by  what  they  saw,  and 
bumped  into  each  ether  in  their  haste  to  get  by  as 
quickly  as  possible. 

On  the  bed  lay  a  rigid  form,  stretched  out  under 


Nearing  the  End  331 

a  white  counterpane.  All  that  showed  of  the  face 
above  the  bushy  whiskers  was  as  waxen  looking  as 
if  death  had  already  touched  it,  but  the  sunken  eyes 
half  open,  showed  that  they  were'  still  in  the  mys- 
terious hold  of  what  old  Jeremy  called  a  "living 
death."  It  was  a  sight  which  neither  of  them  could 
put  out  of  their  minds  for  days  afterward. 

Belle  met  them  at  the  back  door,  solemn,  unsmil- 
ing, her  hushed  tones  adding  to  the  air  of  mystery 
which  seemed  to  shroud  the  house.  As  she  finished 
reading  the  note  a  neighbor  came  in  the  back  way 
and  Belle  asked  the  children  to  wait  a  few  minutes. 
They  dropped  down  on  the  grass  while  Belle,  lean- 
ing against  the  pump,  answered  Mrs.  Brown's  ques- 
tions in  low  tones. 

She  had  been  up  all  night,  she  told  Mrs.  Brown. 
Yes,  she  was  going  to  stay  on  till  the  call  came,  no 
matter  whether  it  was  a  week  or  a  year.  Mrs.  Brown 
spoke  in  a  hoarse  whisper  which  broke  now  and  then, 
letting  her  natural  voice  through  with  startling  ef- 
fect. 

"It's  certainly  noble  of  you,"  she  declared. 
"There's  not  many  who  would  put  themselves  out  to 
do  for  an  old  person  who  hadn't  any  claim  on  them 
the  way  you  are  doing  for  him.  There'll  surely  be 
stars  in  your  crown." 

Later,  as  the  children  trudged  back  home,  sobered 
by  all  they  had  seen  and  heard,  Georgina  broke  the 
silence. 


332         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Well,  I  think  we  ought  to  put  Belle's  name  on 
the  very  top  line  of  our  club  book.  She  ought  to  be 
an  honary  member — the  very  honaryest  one  of  all." 

"Why?"  asked  Richard. 

"You  heard  all  Mrs.  Brown  said.  Seems  to  me 
what  she's  doing  to  give  old  Mr.  Potter  a  good  time 
is  the  very  noblest " 

There  was  an  amazed  look  on  Richard's  face  as 
he  interrupted  with  the  exclamation: 

"Gee-minee !  You  don't  call  what  that  old  man's 
having  a  good  time,  do  you?" 

"Well,  it's  good  to  what  it  would  be  if  Belle  wasn't 
taking  care  of  him.  And  if  she  does  as  Mrs.  Brown 
says,  'carries  some  comfort  into  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  for  him,  making  his  last  days  bright,'  isn't 
that  the  very  biggest  rainbow  anybody  could  make?" 

"Ye-es,"  admitted  Richard  in  a  doubtful  tone. 
"Maybe  it  is  if  you  put  it  that  way." 

They  walked  a  few  blocks  more  in  silence,  then 
he  said: 

"I  think  Dan  ought  to  be  an  honary  member." 

It  was  Georgina's  turn  to  ask  why. 

"Aw,  you  know  why!  Taking  the  blame  on  him- 
self the  way  he  did  and  everything." 

"But  he  made  just  as  bad  times  for  Uncle  Darcy 
and  Aunt  Elspeth  as  he  made  good  times  for  Mr. 
Potter  and  Emmett.  I  don't  think  he  has  any  right 
to  belong  at  all." 

They  argued  the  question  hotly  for  a  few  min- 


Nearing  the  End  333 

utes,  coming  nearer  to  a  quarrel  than  they  had  ever 
been  before,  and  only  dropping  it  as  they  crossed 
to  a  side  street  which  led  into  the  dunes. 

"Let's  turn  here  and  go  home  this  way,"  sug- 
gested Richard.  "Let's  go  look  at  the  place  where 
we  buried  the  pouch  and  see  if  the  sand  has  shifted 
any." 

Nothing  was  changed,  however,  except  that  the 
holes  they  had  dug  were  filled  to  the  level  now,  and 
the  sand  stretched  an  unbroken  surface  as  before  the 
day  of  their  digging. 

"Cousin  James  says  that  if  ever  the  gold  comes 
to  the  top  we  can  have  it,  because  he  paid  the  woman. 
But  if  it  ever  does  I  won't  be  here  to  see  it.  I've 
got  to  go  home  in  eight  more  days." 

He  stood  kicking  his  toes  into  the  sand  as  he 
added  dolefully,  "Here  it  is  the  end  of  the  summer 
and  we've  only  played  at  being  pirates.  We've 
never  gone  after  the  real  stuff  in  dead  earnest,  one 
single  time." 

"I  know,"  admitted  Georgina.  "First  we  had  to 
wait  so  long  for  your  portrait  to  be  finished  and 
then  you  went  off  on  the  yacht,  and  all  in  between 
times  things  have  happened  so  fast  there  never  was 
any  time.  But  we  found  something  just  as  good  as 
pirate  stuff — that  note  in  the  rifle  was  worth  more 
to  Uncle  Darcy  than  a  chest  of  gold." 

"And  Captain  Kidd  was  as  good  as  a  real  pirate," 
said  Richard,  brightening  at  the  thought,  "for  he 


334         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

brought  home  a  bag  of  real  gold,  and  was  the  one 
who  started  us  after  the  wild-cat  woman.  I  guess 
Uncle  Darcy  would  rather  know  what  she  told  him 
than  have  a  chest  of  ducats  and  pearls." 

"We  can  go  next  summer,"  suggested  Georgina. 

"Maybe  I  won't  be  here  next  summer.  Dad  al- 
ways wants  to  try  new  places  on  his  vacation.  He 
and  Aunt  Letty  like  to  move.  But  I'd  like  to  stay 
here  always.  I  hate  to  go  away  until  I  find  out  the 
end  of  things.  I  wish  I  could  stay  until  the  letter  is 
found  and  Dan  comes  home." 

"You  may  be  a  grown-up  man  before  either  of 
those  things  happen,"  remarked  Georgina  sagely. 

"Then  I'll  know  I'll  be  here  to  see  'm,"  was  the 
triumphant  answer,  "because  when  I'm  a  man  I'm 
coming  back  here  to  live  all  the  rest  of  my  life.  It's 
the  nicest  place  there  is." 

"If  anything  happens  sooner  I'll  write  and  tell 
you,"  promised  Georgina. 

Something  happened  the  very  next  morning,  how- 
ever, and  Georgina  kept  part  of  her  promise  though 
not  in  writing*  when  she  came  running  up  the  Green 
Stairs,  excited  and  eager.  Her  news  was  so  tre- 
mendously important  that  the  words  tumbled  over 
each  other  in  her  haste  to  tell  it.  She  could  hardly 
make  herself  understood.  The  gist  of  it  was  that  a 
long  night  letter  had  just  arrived  from  her  father, 
saying  that  he  had  landed  in  San  Francisco  and  was 
taking  the  first  homeward  bound  train.  He  would 


Nearing  the  End  335 

stop  in  Washington  for  a  couple  of  days  to  attend 
to  some  business,  and  then  was  coming  home  for 
a  long  visit.  And — this  was  the  sentence  Georgina 
saved  till  last  to  electrify  Richard  with: 

"Am  bringing  Dan  with  me." 

"He  didn't  say  where  he  found  him  or  anything 
else  about  it,"  added  Georgina,  only  'prepare  his 
family  for  the  surprise.'  So  Barby  went  straight 
down  there  to  Fishburn  Court  and  she's  telling  Aunt 
Elspeth  and  Uncle  Darcy  now,  so  they'll  have  time 
to  get  used  to  the  news  before  he  walks  in  on  them." 

They  sat  down  on  the  top  step  with  the  dog  be- 
tween them. 

"They  must  know  it  by  this  time,"  remarked  Geor- 
gina. "Oh,  don't  you  wish  you  could  see  what's 
happening,  and  how  glad  everybody  is?  Uncle 
Darcy  will  want  to  start  right  out  with  his  bell  and 
ring  it  till  it  cracks,  telling  the  whole  town." 

"But  he  won't  do  it,"  said  Richard.  "He  prom- 
ised he  wouldn't." 

"Anyhow  till  Belle  says  he  can,"  amended  Geor- 
gina. "I'm  sure  she'll  say  so  when  'the  call'  comes, 
but  nobody  knows  when  that  will  be.  It  may  be  soon 
and  it  may  not  be  for  years." 

They  sat  there  on  the  steps  a  long  time,  talking 
quietly,  but  with  the  holiday  feeling  that  one  has 
when  waiting  for  a  procession  to  pass  by.  The  very 
air  seemed  full  of  that  sense  of  expectancy,  of  wait- 
ing for  something  to  happen. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

COMINGS   AND   GOINGS 

OUT  towards  the  cranberry  bogs  went  the  Town- 
crier.  No  halting  step  this  time,  no  weary 
droop  of  shoulders.  It  would  have  taken  a  swift- 
footed  boy  to  keep  pace  with  him  on  this  errand.  He 
was  carrying  the  news  to  Belle.  What  he  expected 
her  to  say  he  did  not  stop  to  ask  himself,  nor  did 
he  notice  in  the  tumultuous  joy  which  kept  his  old 
heart  pounding  at  unwonted  speed,  that  she  turned 
white  with  the  suddenness  of  his  telling,  and  then  a 
wave  of  color  surged  over  her  face. 

Her  only  answer  was  to  lead  him  into  the  room 
where  the  old  net-mender  lay  helpless,  turning  ap- 
pealing eyes  to  her  as  she  entered,  with  the  look 
in  them  that  one  sees  in  the  eyes  of  a  grateful  dumb 
animal.  His  gaze  did  not  reach  as  far  as  the  Town- 
crier,  who  halted  on  the  threshold  until  Belle  joined 
him  there.  She  led  him  outside. 

"You  see  for  yourself  how  it  is,"  was  all  she  said. 
"Do  as  you  think  best  about  it." 

Out  on  the  road  again  the  Towncrier  stood  hesi- 
tating, uncertain  which  course  to  take.  Twice  he 
started  in  the  direction  of  home,  then  retraced  his 

336 


Comings  and  Goings  337 

steps  again  to  stand  considering.  Finally  he  straight- 
ened up  with  a  determined  air  and  started  briskly 
down  the  road  which  led  to  the  center  of  the  town. 
Straight  to  the  bank  he  went,  asking  for  Mr.  Gates, 
and  a  moment  later  was  admitted  into  the  president's 
private  office. 

"And  what  can  I  do  for  you,  Uncle  Dan'l?"  was 
the  cordial  greeting. 

The  old  man  dropped  heavily  into  the  chair  set 
out  for  him.  He  was  out  of  breath  from  his  rapid 
going. 

"You  can  do  me  one  of  the  biggest  favors  I  ever 
asked  of  anybody  if  you  only  will.  Do  you  remem- 
ber a  sealed  envelope  I  brought  in  here  the  first  of 
the  summer  and  asked  you  to  keep  for  me  till  I 
called  for  it?" 

"Yes,  do  you  want  it  now?" 

"I'm  going  to  show  you  what's  in  it." 

He  had  such  an  air  of  suppressed  excitement  as  he 
said  it  and  his  breathing  was  so  labored,  that  Mr. 
Gates  wondered  what  could  have  happened  to  affect 
him  so.  When  he  came  back  from  the  vault  he  car- 
ried the  envelope  which  had  been  left  in  his  charge 
earlier  in  the  summer.  Uncle  Darcy  tore  it  open 
with  fingers  that  trembled  in  their  eagerness. 

"What  I'm  about  to  show  you  is  for  your  eyes 
alone,"  he  said.  He  took  out  a  crumpled  sheet  of 
paper  which  had  once  been  torn  in  two  and  pasted 
together  again  in  clumsy  fashion.  It  was  the  paper 


338         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

which  had  been  wadded  up  in  the  rifle,  which  Belle 
had  seized  with  hysterical  fury,  torn  in  two  and 
flung  from  her. 

"There!     Read  that!"  he  commanded. 

Mr.  Gates  knew  everybody  in  town.  He  had  been 
one  of  the  leading  citizens  who  had  subscribed  to 
the  monument  in  Emmett  Potter's  honor.  He  could 
scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes  as  he 
read  the  confession  thrust  into  his  hands,  and  he  had 
never  been  more  surprised  at  any  tale  ever  told  him 
than  the  one  Uncle  Darcy  related  now  of  the  way 
it  had  been  found,  and  his  promise  to  Belle  Trip- 
lett 

"I'm  not  going  to  make  it  public  while  old  Potter 
hangs  on,"  he  said  in  conclusion.  "I'll  wait  till  he's 
past  feeling  the  hurts  of  earth.  But  Mr.  Gates,  I've 
had  word  that  my  Danny's  coming  home.  I  can't 
let  the  boy  come  back  to  dark  looks  and  cold  shoul- 
ders turned  on  him  everywhere.  I  thought  if  you'd 
just  start  the  word  around  that  he's  all  right — that 
somebody  else  confessed  to  what  he's  accused  of — 
that  you'd  seen  the  proof  with  your  own  eyes  and 
could  vouch  for  his  being  all  right — if  you'd  just 
give  him  a  welcoming  hand  and  show  you  believed  in 
him  it  would  make  all  the  difference  in  the  world  in 
Danny's  home-coming.  You  needn't  mention  any 
names,"  he  pleaded.  "I  know  it'll  make  a  lot  of  talk 
and  surmising,  but  that  won't  hurt  anybody.  If 
you  could  just  do  that — — ?" 


Comings  and  Goings  339 

When  the  old  man  walked  out  of  the  president's 
office  he  carried  his  head  as  high  as  if  he  had  been 
given  a  kingdom.  He  had  been  given  what  was 
worth  more  to  him,  the  hearty  handclasp  of  a  man 
whose  "word  was  as  good  as  a  bond,"  and  the  prom- 
ise that  Dan  should  be  welcomed  back  to  the  town 
by  great  and  small,  as  far  as  was  in  his  power  to 
make  that  welcome  cordial  and  widespread. 

£  $'  £  £  j|c  fe 

Dan  did  not  wait  in  Washington  while  Doctor 
Huntingdon  made  his  report.  He  came  on  alone, 
and  having  missed  the  boat,  took  the  railroad  jour- 
ney down  the  Cape.  In  the  early  September  twi- 
light he  stepped  off  the  car,  feeling  as  if  he  were  in 
a  strange  dream.  But  when  he  turned  into  one  of 
the  back  streets  leading  to  his  home,  it  was  all  so 
familiar  and  unchanged  that  he  had  the  stranger 
feeling  of  never  having  been  away.  It  was  the  past 
ten  years  that  seemed  a  dream. 

He  had  not  realized  how  he  loved  the  old  town 
or  the  depth  of  his  longing  for  it,  until  he  saw  it 
now,  restored  to  him.  Even  the  familiar,  savory 
smells  floating  out  from  various  supper  tables  as  he 
passed  along,  gave  him  keen  enjoyment.  Some  of 
them  had  been  unknown  all  the  time  of  his  wander- 
ings in  foreign  lands.  The  voices,  the  type  of  fea- 
tures, the  dress  of  the  people  he  passed,  the  veriest 
trifles  which  he  never  noticed  when  he  lived  among 


34-O         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

them,  thrilled  him  now  with  a  sense  of  having  come 
back  to  his  own. 

Half  a  dozen  fishermen  passed  him,  their  boots 
clumping  heavily.  He  recognized  two  of  them  if  not 
as  individuals,  as  members  of  families  he  had  known, 
from  their  resemblance  to  the  older  ones.  Then  he 
turned  his  head  aside  as  he  reached  the  last  man. 
He  was  not  ready  to  be  recognized  himself,  yet.  He 
wanted  to  go  home  first,  and  this  man  at  the  end 
was  Peter  Winn.  He  had  sailed  in  his  boat  many 
a  time. 

A  cold  fog  was  settling  over  the  Court  when  he 
turned  into  it.  As  silently  as  the  fog  itself  he  stole 
through  the  sand  and  in  at  the  gate.  The  front  door 
was  shut  and  the  yellow  blind  pulled  down  over  the 
window,  but  the  lamp  behind  it  sent  out  a  glow, 
reaching  dimly  through  the  fog.  He  crept  up  close ' 
to  it  to  listen  for  the  sound  of  voices,  and  suddenly 
two  blended  shadows  were  thrown  on  the  blind.  The 
old  man  was  helping  his  wife  up  from  her  rocking 
chair  and  supporting  her  with  a  careful  arm  as  he 
guided  her  across  to  the  table.  His  voice  rang  out 
cheerfully  to  the  waiting  listener. 

"That's  it,  Mother!  That's  it!  Just  one  more 
step  now.  Why,  you're  doing  fine  !  I  knew  the  word 
of  Danny's  coming  home  would  put  you  on  your  feet 
again.  The  lad'll  be  here  soon,  thank  God !  Maybe 
before  another  nightfall." 

A  moment  later  and  the  lamp-light  threw  another 


Comings  and  Goings  341 

shadow  on  the  yellow  blind,  plain  as  a  photograph. 
It  was  well  that  the  fog  drew  a  white  veil  between  it 
and  the  street,  for  it  was  a  picture  of  joy  too  sacred 
for  curious  eyes  to  see. 
Danny  had  come  home! 

****** 

It  was  the  tenth  of  September.  The  town  looked 
strangely  deserted  with  nearly  all  the  summer  people 
gone.  The  railroad  wharf  was  the  only  place  vhere 
there  was  the  usual  bustle  and  crowd,  and  that  was 
because  the  Dorothy  Bradford  was  gathering  up  its 
passengers  for  the  last  trip  of  the  season. 

Richard  was  to  be  one  of  them,  and  a  most  un- 
willing one.  Not  that  he  was  sorry  to  be  going  back 
to  school.  He  had  missed  Binney  and  the  gang, 
and  could  hardly  wait  to  begin  swapping  experiences 
with  them.  But  he  was  leaving  Captain  Kidd  be- 
hind. Dogs  were  not  allowed  in  the  apartment  house 
to  which  his  father  and  Aunt  Letty  intended  moving 
the  next  week. 

There  had  been  a  sorry  morning  in  the  garage 
when  the  news  was  broken  to  him.  He  crept  up  into 
the  machine  and  lay  down  on  the  back  seat,  and  cried 
and  cried  with  his  arms  around  Captain  Kidd's 
neck.  The  faithful  little  tongue  reached  out  now 
and  then  to  lap  away  his  master's  tears,  and  once  he 
lifted  his  paw  and  clawed  at  the  little  striped  shirt 
waist  as  if  trying  to  convey  some  mute  comfort. 

"You're  just  the  same  as  folks!"  sobbed  Richard, 


342         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

hugging  the  shaggy  head,  laid  lovingly  on  his  breast. 
"And  it's  cruel  of  'em  to  make  me  give  you  away." 

Several  days  had  passed  since  that  unhappy  morn- 
ing, however,  and  Richard  did  not  feel  quite  so  deso- 
late over  the  separation  now.  For  one  thing  it  had 
not  been  necessary  to  give  up  all  claim  on  Captain 
Kidd  to  insure  him  a  good  home.  Georgina  had 
gladly  accepted  the  offer  of  half  of  him,  and  had 
coaxed  even  Tippy  into  according  him  a  reluctant 
welcome. 

The  passengers  already  on  deck  watched  with  in- 
terest the  group  near  the  gang-plank.  Richard  was 
putting  the  clever  little  terrier  through  his  whole  list 
of  tricks. 

"It's  the  last  time,  old  fellow,"  he  said  implor- 
ingly when  the  dog  hesitated  over  one  of  them.  "Go 
on  and  do  it  for  me  this  once.  Maybe  I'll  never  see 
you  again  till  I'm  grown  up  and  you're  too  old  to  re- 
member me." 

"That's  what  you  said  about  Dan's  coming  home," 
remarked  Georgina  from  under  the  shade  of  her 
pink  parasol.  That  parasol  and  the  pink  dress  and 
the  rose-like  glow  on  the  happy  little  face  was  at- 
tracting even  more  admiration  from  the  passengers 
than  Captain  Kidd's  tricks.  Barbara,  standing  be- 
side her,  cool  and  dainty  in  a  white  dress  and  pale 
green  sweater  and  green  parasol,  made  almost  as 
much  of  a  picture. 

"You  talked  that  way  about  never  expecting  to 


Comings  and  Goings  343 

see  Danny  till  you  were  grown,"  continued  Geor- 
gina,  "and  it  turned  out  that  you  not  only  saw  him, 
but  were  with  him  long  enough  to  hear  some  of  his 
adventures.  It  would  be  the  same  way  about  your 
coming  back  here  if  you'd  just  keep  hoping  hard 
enough." 

"Come  Dicky,"  called  Mr.  Moreland  from  the 
upper  deck.  "They're  about  to  take  in  the  gang- 
plank. Don't  get  left." 

Maybe  it  was  just  as  well  that  there  was  no  time 
for  good-byes.  Maybe  it  was  more  than  the  little 
fellow  could  have  managed  manfully.  As  it  was  his 
voice  sounded  suspiciously  near  breaking  as  he  called 
back  over  his  shoulder,  almost  gruffly: 

"Well  you — you  be  as  good  to  my  half  of  him 
as  you  are  to  yours." 

A  moment  or  two  later,  leaning  over  the  railing 
of  the  upper  deck  he  could  see  Captain  Kidd  strug- 
gling and  whining  to  follow  him.  But  Barby  held 
tightly  to  the  chain  fastened  to  his  collar,  and  Geor- 
gina,  her  precious  pink  parasol  cast  aside,  knelt  on 
the  wharf  beside  the  quivering,  eager  little  body  to 
clasp  her  arms  about  it  and  pour  out  a  flood  of  com- 
forting endearments. 

Wider  and  wider  grew  the  stretch  of  water  be- 
tween the  boat  and  the  wharf.  Richard  kept  on 
waving  until  he  could  no  longer  distinguish  the  lit- 
tle group  on  the  end  of  the  pier.  But  he  knew  they 
would  be  there  until  the  last  curl  of  smoke  from  the 
steamer  disappeared  around  Long  Point. 


344         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

"Here,"  said  the  friendly  voice  of  a  woman  stand- 
ing next  to  him.  She  had  been  one  of  the  interested 
witnesses  of  the  parting.  She  thrust  an  opera-glass 
into  his  hands.  For  one  more  long  satisfying  mo- 
ment he  had  another  glimpse  of  the  little  group,  still 
faithfully  waving,  still  watching.  How  very,  very 
far  away  they  were ! 

Suddenly  the  glass  grew  so  blurry  and  queer  it 
was  no  more  good,  and  he  handed  it  back  to  the 
woman.  At  that  moment  he  would  have  given  all 
the  pirate  gold  that  was  ever  on  land  or  sea,  were  it 
his  to  give,  to  be  back  on  that  pier  with  the  three  of 
them,  able  to  claim  that  old  seaport  town  as  his 
home  for  ever  and  always.  And  then  the  one  thing 
that  it  had  taught  him  came  to  his  help.  With  his 
head  up,  he  looked  back  to  the  distant  shore  where 
the  Pilgrim  monument  reared  itself  like  a  watchful 
giant,  and  said  hopefully,  under  his  breath: 

"Well,  some  day!" 

****** 

Georgina,  waking  earlier  than  usual  that  Septem- 
ber morning,  looked  up  and  read  the  verse  on  the 
calendar  opposite  her  bed,  which  she  had  read  every 
morning  since  the  month  came  in. 

"Like  ships  my  days  sail  swift  to  port, 
I  know  not  if  this  be 
The  one  to  bear  a  cargo  rare 
Of  happiness  to  me. 


Comings  and  Goings  345 

"But  I  do  know  this  time,"  she  thought  exultingly, 
sitting  up  in  bed  to  look  out  the  window  and  see  what 
kind  of  weather  the  dawn  had  brought.  This  was 
the  day  her  father  was  coming  home.  He  was  com- 
ing from  Boston  on  a  battleship,  and  she  and  Barby 
were  going  out  to  meet  him  as  soon  as  it  was  sighted 
in  the  harbor. 

She  had  that  quivery,  excited  feeling  which  some- 
times seizes  travelers  as  they  near  the  journey's  end, 
as  if  she  herself  were  a  little  ship,  putting  into  a 
long-wished-for  port.  Well,  it  would  be  like  that  in 
a  way,  she  thought,  to  have  her  father's  arms  folded 
around  her,  to  come  at  last  into  the  strange,  sweet 
intimacy  she  had  longed  for  ever  since  she  first  saw 
Peggy  Burrell  and  the  Captain. 

And  it  was  reaching  another  long-desired  port 
to  have  Barby's  happiness  so  complete.  As  for 
Uncle  Darcy  he  said  himself  that  he  couldn't  be 
gladder  walking  the  shining  streets  of  heaven,  than 
he  was  going  along  that  old  board-walk  with  Danny 
beside  him,  and  everybody  so  friendly  and  so  pleased 
to  see  him. 

Georgina  still  called  him  Danny  in  her  thoughts, 
but  it  had  been  somewhat  a  shock  the  first  time  she 
saw  him,  to  find  that  he  was  a  grown  man  with  a 
grave,  mature  face,  instead  of  the  boy  which  Uncle 
Darcy's  way  of  speaking  of  him  had  led  her  to  ex- 
pect. He  had  already  been  up  to  the  house  to  tell 
them  the  many  things  they  were  eager  to  know  about 


34-0         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

the  months  he  had  spent  with  Doctor  Huntingdon 
and  their  long  trip  home  together.  And  listening, 
Georgina  realized  how  very  deep  was  the  respect 
and  admiration  of  this  younger  man  for  her  father 
and  his  work,  and  everything  he  said  made  her 
more  eager  to  see  and  know  him. 

Uncle  Darcy  and  Dan  were  with  them  when  they 
put  out  in  the  motor  boat  to  meet  the  battleship.  It 
was  almost  sunset  when  they  started,  and  the  man 
at  the  wheel  drove  so  fast  they  felt  the  keen  whip 
of  the  wind  as  they  cut  through  the  waves.  They 
were  glad  to  button  their  coats,  even  up  to  their 
chins.  Uncle  Darcy  and  Dan  talked  all  the  way 
over,  but  Georgina  sat  with  her  hand  tightly  locked 
in  her  mother's,  sharing  her  tense  expectancy,  never 
saying  a  word. 

Then  at  last  the  little  boat  stopped  alongside  the 
big  one.  There  were  a  few  moments  of  delay  before 
Georgina  looked  up  and  saw  her  father  coming  down 
to  them.  He  was  just  as  his  photograph  had  pic- 
tured him,  tall,  erect,  commanding,  and  strangely 
enough  her  first  view  of  him  was  with  his  face  turned 
to  one  side.  Then  it  was  hidden  from  her  as  he 
gathered  Barby  into  his  arms  and  held  her  close. 

Georgina,  watching  that  meeting  with  wistful, 
anxious  eyes,  felt  her  last  little  doubt  of  him  vanish, 
and  when  he  turned  to  her  with  his  stern  lips  curved 
into  the  smile  she  had  hoped  for,  and  with  out- 
stretched arms,  she  sprang  into  them  and  threw  her 


Comings  and  Goings  347 

arms  around  his  neck  with  such  a  welcoming  clasp 
that  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

Then,  remembering  certain  little  letters  which  he 
had  re-read  many  times  on  his  homeward  voyage, 
he  held  her  off  to  look  into  her  eyes  and  whisper  with 
a  tender  smile  which  made  the  teasing  question  a 
joy  to  her: 

"Which  is  it  now?  'Dear  Sir'  or  'Dad-o'-my 
heart?'" 

The  impetuous  pressure  of  her  soft  little  cheek 
against  his  face  was  answer  eloquent  enough. 

As  they  neared  the  shore  a  bell  tolled  out  over 
the  water.  It  was  the  bell  of  Saint  Peter,  patron 
saint  of  the  fisher-folk  and  all  those  who  dwell  by 
the  sea.  Then  Long  Point  lighthouse  flashed  a  wel- 
come, and  the  red  lamp  of  Wood  End  blinked  in 
answer.  On  the  other  side  Highland  Light  sent  its 
great,  unfailing  glare  out  over  the  Atlantic,  and  the 
old  Towncrier,  looking  up,  saw  the  first  stars  shin- 
ing overhead. 

Alongshore  the  home  lights  began  to  burn.  One 
shone  out  in  Fishburn  Court  where  Aunt  Elspeth 
sat  waiting.  One  threw  its  gleam  over  the  edge  of 
the  cranberry  bog  from  the  window  where  Belle 
kept  faithful  vigil — where  she  would  continue  to 
keep  it  until  "the  call"  came  to  release  the  watcher 
as  well  as  the  stricken  old  soul  whose  peace  she 
guarded.  And  up  in  the  big  gray  house  by  the  break- 
water, where  Tippy  was  keeping  supper  hot,  a  supper 


348         Georgina  of  the  Rainbows 

fit  to  set  before  a  king,  lights  blazed  from  every 
window. 

Pondering  on  what  all  these  lights  stood  for,  the 
old  man  moved  away  from  the  others,  and  took  his 
place  near  the  prow.  His  heart  was  too  full  just 
now  to  talk  as  they  were  doing.  Presently  he  felt  a 
touch  on  his  arm.  Georgina  had  laid  her  hand  on  it 
with  the  understanding  touch  of  perfect  comrade- 
ship. They  were  his  own  words  she  was  repeating 
to  him,  but  they  bore  the  added  weight  of  her  own 
experience  now. 

"It  pays  to  keep  Hope  at  the  prow,  Uncle  Darcy." 
"Aye,  lass,"  he  answered  tremulously,  "it  does." 
"And  we're  coming  into  port  with  all  flags  fly- 
ing!" 

"77*^  we  are!" 

She  stood  in  silent  gladness  after  that,  the  rest 
of  the  way,  her  curls  flying  back  in  the  wind  made  by 
the  swift  motion  of  the  boat,  the  white  spray  dashing 
up  till  she  could  taste  the  salt  of  it  on  her  lips;  a  lit- 
tle figure  of  Hope  herself,  but  of  Hope  riding 
triumphantly  into  the  port  of  its  fulfillment.  It  was 
for  them  all — those  words  of  the  old  psalm  on  which 
the  rainbow  had  rested,  and  which  the  angel  voice 
had  sung — "Into  their  desired  haven." 


THE    END 


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